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UCSB  LIBRARY 


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CHRISTMAS    EVE; 


STORY  OF  POOR  ANTHONY. 


FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 

CHRISTOPH    SCHMID, 

Canon  of  Augsburg. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

HENRY  F.  ANNERS,  141  CHESNUT  STREET. 

1846. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
KING    AND    BAIRD,   PRINTERS. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

I.  The  Christmas  Hymn, 
II.  Poor  Anthony's  Story, 

III.  The  Forester's  Family,    . 

IV.  Continuation  of  Anthpny's  Story, 
V.  The  Christmas  Gift, 

VI.  Misfortunes  of  the  Forester,     . 
VII.  Further  Disasters  of  the  Forester 
VIII.  The  Unexpected  Visitor,  . 

IX.  The  Christmas  Tree, 


PAGE 

1 

12 
24 
32 

42 
59 
72 
81 
91 


CHRISTMAS    EVE 


CHAPTER    I. 


THE    CHRISTMAS    HYMN. 


UPON  Christmas 
eve,  little  Anthony 
(a  fine  child  of  eight 
years  old)  was  pass- 
ing, towards  even- 
ing, through  a  snow- 
covered  country.  His 


flaxen  ringlets  were  whitened  with  frost;   his 


head  was  protected  only  by  a  slight  straw  hat 
which  he  had  worn  the  preceding  summer ;  and 
his  half-frozen  cheeks  were  quite  blue  with  cold. 
He  was  dressed  like  a  soldier,  in  a  smart  scarlet 
hussar's  jacket.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  stout 
1 


2  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

plum-Stick,  and  on  his  back  he  carried  a  little 
baff,  containinor  all  he  had  in  the  world.  He 
was  cheerful,  however,  and  delighted  at  the 
sight  of  the  beautifnl  winter  landscape,  with  its 
hedges  and  bushes  loaded  with  snow.  The 
deep  red  sun  had  just  set.  The  grass  and  the 
branches  sparkled,  and  the  tops  of  the  firs  in  the 
neighbouring  forest  were  gilded  by  its  last  rays. 
Anthony  conceived  that  there  would  be  no 
difficulty  in  reaching  a  village  on  the  other  side 
of  this  forest,  into  which  he  fearlessly  plunged, 
heedless  of  its  thickness  and  obscurity ;  he  hoped 
that  he  should  be  able  to  pass  the  Christmas 
holydays  in  that  village,  having  heard  that  the 
inhabitants  were  rich  and  hospitable.  Scarcely 
had  he  walked  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  he 
missed  the  path,  and  became  bewildered  in  the 
wildest  part  of  the  forest.  Every  moment  he 
plunged  deeper  into  the  snow,  and  was  often  in 
great  danger  of  falling  into  the  pits,  which  were 
concealed  beneath  it.  Night  came  on,  and  with 
it  a  cold  wind  arose  ;  the  sky  was  covered  with 
clouds,  which  obscured  the  stars  that  had  glis- 
tened through  the  dark  firs.  Darker  shadows 
succeeded,  and  the  snow  began  again  to  fall  in 


THE    CHRISTMAS   HYMN.  3 

abundance.  The  poor  boy  had  now  lost  all  traces 
of  a  road,  and  knew  not  which  way  to  direct  his 
steps.  Worn  out  with  wandering  for  such  a 
length  of  time,  he  could  go  no  farther,  and  tremb- 
ling with  cold  he  began  to  cry.  Placing  his 
bundle  on  the  ground,  he  knelt  down  by  the  side 
of  it,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  he  raised  his  be- 
numbed hands  to  Heaven,  and  prayed  for  pro- 
tection. He  remembered  that  it  was  the  eve  of 
the  Christmas  festival  "  Was  it  not,"  said  he, 
*'  on  this  night,  O  gracious  Father,  that  Thy  dear 
Son  our  Saviour  came  into  the  worldj  Hear  my 
prayer  for  His  sake.  Do  not  abandon  me,  when 
the  whole  world  is  rejoicing  at  the  birth  of  the 
holy  Child ;  let  me  not  perish  in  this  forest." 
And  laying  his  head  on  his  little  bundle,  he 
sobbed  violently. 

Suddenly  was  heard  from  the  adjacent  bank 
some  melodious  sounds  resembling  the  strings 
of  a  harp,  and  a  delicious  chant  arose,  which 
was  echoed  by  the  surrounding  rocks.  The 
child  could  have  believed  it  to  be  a  concert  of 
angels.  He  arose,  and  with  clasped  hands  lis- 
tened.    The  wind  had  now  ceased,  and  a  pro- 


4  CHRISTMAS     EVE. 

found  stillness   had  succeeded.     Anthony  then 
distinctly  heard  these  words  : 

Oh  !  be  consoled  in  every  care  ; 
See  here  thy  God,  with  mercy  rare, 

His  Son  has  sent  from  heav'n : 
Confide  in  Him,  and  courage  take ; 
What  evil  is,  He  good  can  make, 

And  life  for  thee  has  given. 

The  hymn  ceased,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  a 
few  soft  notes  of  the  harp  still  echoing  faintly. 
Anthony  was  overcome.  "  Ah  !"  said  he,  "  I 
feel  as  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem  must  have 
felt  when  they  heard  the  celestial  music  of  that 
holy  night.  I  will  take  courage,  and  vex  myself 
no  more  ;  there  must  surely  be  charitable  people 
near,  who  will  pity  me ;  for  I  am  led  to  hope 
that,  as  they  sing  like  angels,  they  may  also  be 
as  kind  as  they." 

Taking  up  his  knapsack,  he  approached  the 
spot  from  which  he  fancied  the  sweet  song  had 
reached  him.  He  had  walked  but  a  few  steps 
when  he  perceived  a  ray  of  light,  which  disap- 
peared in  a  moment,  then  beamed  anew,  and 
continued  to  appear  and  disappear,  but  with  in- 


THE    CHRISTMAS   HYMN.  O 

creased  brightness.  Anthony  joyfully  hurried 
on,  and  found  himself  before  a  lonely  house  in 
the  middle  of  the  forest.  He  knocked  several 
times  at  the  door;  but  although  he  heard  voices 
and  merriment  within,  no  one  replied.  He  then 
attempted  to  open  the  door,  and  succeeded.  He 
felt  his  way  for  some  time  in  the  dark,  until, 
arriving  at  the  room  where  the  party  were  as- 
sembled, he  was  struck  with  astonishment  and 
delight.  He  was  dazzled  with  the  brilliancy  of 
the  illumination,  and  fancied  that  heaven  itself 
was  opened  before  him. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room,  between  two  case- 
ments, stood  a  beautiful  landscape,  a  miniature 
imitation  of  nature  in  its  most  delightful  season  ; 
it  presented  the  appearance  of  a  mountainous 
country,  with  moss-covered  rocks,  verdant  pine- 
woods,  rural  cottages,  flocks  feeding  by  their 
shepherds,  and  a  little  town  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  In  the  centre  of  the  scene  was  a 
rocky  grotto,  where  was  seen  the  blessed  Vir- 
gin, the  infant  Jesus,  the  pious  Joseph,  and  the 
adoring  shepherds ;  above  whom  were  angels 
hovering  in  the  air,  their  countenances  beaming 
with  joy.  The  entire  landscape  shone  with 
1* 


D  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

wonderful  brightness  ;  it  seemed  to  be  spangled 
with  thousands  of  little  stars ;  and  it  glittered 
like  the  dew-besprinkled  green  of  the  fields  in  a 
spring  morning. 

The  inmates  were  assembled  round  this  re- 
presentation of  the  infant  Jesus  in  his  manger. 
On  one  side  was  the  father  with  a  harp,  and 
on  the  other  was  seated  the  mother,  with  the 
youngest  of  her  children  on  her  knee.  There 
were  also  a  little  boy  and  girl,  who  were  regard- 
ing the  manger  with  great  devotion,  and  raising 
their  hands  in  imitation  of  the  pious  shepherds 
kneeling  before  the  Saviour. 

The  father  again  touched  his  harp,  and  the 
mother  sang  with  a  sweet  voice  the  succeeding 
verse  of  that  hymn  of  which  Anthony  had  heard 
a  part.  The  two  children  united  their  sweet 
clear  tones  to  the  fine  bass  notes  of  their  father, 
and  sang : 

And  if  in  need  a  wretched  child 

"Within  thy  gate  intrude, 
Repulse  him  not,  but  accents  mild 

Bestow  on  him, — in  gratitude 
For  all  God  gives ;  and  let  him  share 
Thy  fire  and  hospitable  fare. 


THE    CHRISTMAS   HYMN.  7 

Poor  Anthony  remained  standing  at  the  open 
door,  with  the  latchet  of  the  door  in  one  hand, 
and  in  the  other  his  hat  and  stick.  He  could 
not  take  his  eyes  off  the  beautiful  picture  of  the 
manger,  and  he  listened  with  open  mouth  to  the 
song  and  the  harp.  No  one  observed  him  until 
the  mother,  feeling  the  draft  of  air  from  the  door, 
turned  her  head.  •'  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed 
she,  "  what  brings  this  child  at  this  time  of  night 
through  the  thick  forest  here  ? — Poor  boy  !  you 
must  have  missed  your  road?" 

*'  Alas,  yes,"  said  the  child,  "I  have  lost  my 
way  in  the  forest." 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  towards  the  door. 
The  two  children  felt  great  pity  for  the  litde 
boy  ;  but  they  were  too  timid  to  move  from  their 
places,  as  he  was  a  stranger.  The  mother  going 
towards  him,  asked  him  in  a  friendly  tone, 
"  Where  do  you  come  from,  my  little  fellow ; 
what  is  your  name ;  and  who  are  your  parents  ?" 

*'Alas!"  said  Anthony,  his  eyes  filling  with 
tears,  "  I  have  now  no  home.  My  name  is  An- 
thony Croner ;  my  father  died  in  the  war,  and 
last  autumn  I  lost  my  mother  through  grief  and 


8  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

distress.  I  am  quite  a  stranger  in  this  country, 
and  I  am  wandering  about  the  world  like  a 
strayed  lamb. 

He  then  began  to  relate  how  he  had  been 
bewildered  in  the  forest ;  and  how  having  heard 
their  singing,  he  had  been  guided  to  their  house. 
He  would  have  continued  to  speak,  but  was  un- 
able from  the  effects  of  cold. 

*•  Poor  Anthony,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  are 
half  perished  with  cold,  and  you  must  also  be 
hungry  and  tired.  Put  down  your  bundle,  and 
sit  you  down,  and  you  shall  have  some  nice 
hot  soup,  and  what  else  remains  of  our  supper." 
The  two  children.  Christian  and  Catherine,  took 
from  him  his  hat,  his  stick,  and  his  knapsack, 
after  which  they  led  their  little  guest  to  the  sup- 
per-table, where  their  mother  had  ready  for  him 
some  soup,  a  large  piece  of  cake,  and  some 
stewed  plums.  She  seated  herself  opposite  to 
him,  and  smiled  on  him  so  kindly,  that  he  seemed 
to  eat  with  still  better  appetite.  The  children 
gladly  shared  with  him  their  Christmas  gifts- 
fine  rosy-cheeked  apples,  golden  pears,  and  large 
brown  nuts.     The  soup  made  the  poor  child 


THE    CHRISTMAS    HYMN.  9 

feel  much  better,  and  the  gentle  warmth  of  the 
room  soon  quite  restoring  him,  he  recovered  his 
vivacity  and  good  spirits. 

"  But  what  is  that  beautiful  thing  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  ?"  said  he  at  last ;  for  while  he  was 
eating,  he  had  constantly  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
picture.  "It  looks  to  me  like  spring  in  the 
middle  of  winter  ;  I  never  saw  any  thing  so  fine 
in  my  life.  May  I  look  at  it  a  little  nearer?'* 
and  he  advanced  towards  it,  followed  by  the  two 
children. 

"Do  you  know  what  all  this  represents!" 
asked  Catherine. 

*'  To  be  sure  I  do,"  replied  Anthony  ;  "  it  is 
the  birth  of  Jesus  Christ." 

"  But  that  is  not  the  real  child  Jesus,"  said 
Catherine.  "Jesus  is  no  longer  a  child,  but 
went  up  into  heaven  a  long  time  ago."   • 

"I  know  all  that,"  replied  Anthony;  "do 
you  take  me  for  a  heathen?  Two  thousand 
years  are  nearly  passed  away  since  the  holy 
Jesus  was  a  child  in  the  manger.  Is  not  that 
the  town  of  Bethlehem  up  there  ?"  Catherine 
nodded  assent.  "  You  see,  then,"  said  Anthony, 


10  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

'*  that  I  know  it  all,  and  am  not  so  ignorant  as 
you  took  me  for." 

Tlie  children  began  to  amuse  themselves  in 
pointing  out  to  Anthony  many  little  things, 
which,  however,  were  to  them  of  great  import- 
ance. "Look,  Anthony,"  cried  Catherine; 
"  look  at  this  beautiful  sheep  with  the  white 
frizzy  wool,  and  the  two  little  lambs  at  its  side. 
See  the  rest  of  the  flock  are  browsing  near  them  ; 
and  yonder  is  the  shepherd  playing  on  his  pipe. 
At  night  he  sleeps  in  that  pretty  little  red  house 
upon  wheels." 

"And  pray,"  said  Christian,  "look  at  the 
little  spring  which,  oozing  from  the  rock  like  a 
silver  thread,  spreads  itself  in  the  lake  below. 
See  also  the  two  white  swans  with  such  arching 
necks,  which  are  swimming  on  the  lake,  and 
reflecting  themselves  in  its  clear  and  quiet 
water." 

"And  further  ofli',"  said  Catherine,  "is  a 
young  shepherdess  coming  quickly  down  the 
hill,  carrying  on  her  head  a  covered  basket.  I 
dare  say  it  is  full  of  eggs  or  apples." 

In  this  way  the  children  spent  their  evening, 


THE     CHRISTMAS    HYMN.  11 

remarking  every  thing,  from  the  smallest  snail 
on  the  rock,  to  the  shining  shells  which  covered 
the  edge  of  the  lake. 

"  All  this  is  very  pretty,"  said  Anthony ;  "  but 
the  finest  of  all  is  the  divine  Child's  face  ;  for  it 
was  for  the  sake  of  the  Child  whose  picture  you 
here  see  that  our  heavenly  Father  has  this  night 
saved  me  from  my  great  distress." 


CHAPTER  II. 


POOR    ANTHONY  S   STORY 


7n  The  father  of  the  family  which 
Jtv^  had  received  Anthony  was  a  game- 
keeper and  forester.  During  the 
time  that  the  children  were  con- 
versing in  this  manner,  he  sat  in 
his  arm-chair  by  the  fire-place, 
apparently  absorbed  in  profound  meditation. 
His  wife  approached  him  with  her  baby  in  her 
arms,  and,  after  a  moment  or  two,  said,  "  Why 
are  you  so  silent?  What  are  you  thinking  of?" 
*'I  am  thinking  of  the  last  lines  of  the  song 
we  have  been  singing,"  answered  he.  "  By 
warming  and  feeding  this  poor  child,  you  have 
done  what  is  there  spoken  of;  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  might  do  still  more.  We  are  now 
celebrating  the  anniversary  of  that  holy  night  in 
which  the  divine  Infant  was  born  for  us  men 


POOR  Anthony's  story.  13 

and  for  our  salvation.  In  this  same  night  God 
sends  us  a  child  whom  we  may  be  the  means 
of  saving.  Elizabeth,  give  me  frankly  your 
opinion  ;  what  ought  we  to  do  ?" 

"Receive him,"  said  his  wife, joyfully.  "Has 
not  He  who  was  born  on  this  night,  said.  What 
ye  do  to  the  least  of  these  among  you,  you  do  it 
unto  Me  ?  and  Anthony  appears  to  me  to  be  a 
very  good,  mild,  and  yet  noble-minded  child  ;  his 
manner  is  so  devout,  so  innocent;  and  even 
when  imploring  charity,  he  has  not  a  bold  or 
impertinent  air.  His  parents  must  surely  have 
been  respectable  people.  Where  five  persons 
can  be  supported,  there  is  also  enough  for  six. 
We  will  keep  this  child." 

**  You  are  a  worthy  good  woman,"  said  the 
forester,  pressing  her  hand;  "  God  will  reward 
you,  and  will  repay  to  your  own  children  all 
that  you  do  for  this  poor  stranger.  But  we  will 
first  talk  to  him,  and  find  out  whether  he  is  de- 
serving the  good  we  intend  him. — "  Come  here, 
Anthony,"  said  the  forester  aloud. 

Anthony  advanced,  and  placed  himself  before 
him,  like  a  soldier  before  his  officer. 

"  Your  father,  then,  was  a  soldier,  and  died  in 
2 


14  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

his  country's  service.  It  is  an  honourable  death, 
although  for  you  it  was  very  sad.  Now  tell  us 
something  about  your  parents.  Where  did  you 
live  before  the  war  ?  How  was  your  father  killed  ? 
What  was  the  cause  of  your  mother's  death  I 
What  brought  you  into  this  forest  ?  Speak  ;  we 
are  listening." 

Anthony  then  related  as  follows  :  "  My  father, 
when  he  was  addressed  by  the  hussars,  was 
called  quarter-master.  Our  regiment  was  in 
garrison  at  Glatz  in  Silesia.  My  mother  gained 
a  good  deal  by  needlework,  at  which  she  was 
very  clever.  IVIy  father  came  home  in  great 
haste  one  day,  and  told  us  that  war  was  declared, 
and  that  we  must  be  off  to-morrow.  He  had  a 
great  deal  of  courage,  and  made  up  his  mind  to 
it ;  but  my  mother  wept  bitterly,  and  was  much 
alarmed.  She  would  not  allow  him  to  go  alone, 
not  being  able  to  bear  the  separation.  She 
entreated  him  so  earnestly  to  take  us  with  him, 
that  at  last  he  consented.  AVe  travelled  very, 
very  far.  Suddenly  the  word  was  heard,  '  The 
enemy  advances  !'  My  father  and  his  hussars 
hastened  to  meet  them,  while  my  mother  and  I 
remained  behind.      The  noise  of  the  cannons 


POOR  Anthony's  story.  15 

alarmed  us  dreadfully.  My  mother  said  to  me. 
'  Every  shot  appears  to  pierce  through  my  heart ; 
for  who  knows  that  that  very  ball  may  not  have 
reached  the  heart  of  your  poor  father  V  All  the 
time  that  the  firing  was  heard,  we  continued  to 
weep  and  pray ;  but  happily  my  father  returned 
safe.  Thus  things  continued  for  some  time, 
until  one  day  after  a  skirmish,  my  father's  horse 
was  led  home  by  a  hussar,  who  told  us  that  he 
was  dangerously  wounded,  and  dying  on  the 
field  of  battle,  about  half  a  mile  ofif.  We  has- 
tened to  him,  and  found  him  lying  under  a  tree, 
while  an  old  soldier  was  kneehng  by  him,  sup- 
porting his  head  on  his  breast,  and  attended  by 
two  other  hussars.  He  had  been  struck  by  a 
ball  in  the  chest,  and  was  already  as  pale  as 
death.  He  fixed  his  dying  eyes  sadly  upon  me 
and  my  mother,  then  turned  them  to  heaven, 
and  in  a  few  moments  heaved  his  last  sigh.  My 
mother  and  I  burst  into  tears.  He  was  buried 
in  a  neighbouring  cemetery,  and  the  funeral  was 
attended  by  several  ofiicers  and  a  great  many 
soldiers.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  still  hear  the 
strange  melancholy  sound  of  the  trumpets.  The 
last  honours  were  paid  by  several  shots  being 


16  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

fired  over  his  grave.  My  mother  and  I  were  so 
much  affected  by  this  sad  mark  of  respect,  that 
it  appeared  to  us  almost  as  if  they  were  firing 
upon  ourselves.  The  soldiers  dried  their  tears 
as  they  left  the  grave  ;  but  we  were  inconsolable. 
My  mother  wished  to  return  to  her  own  country. 
She  had  no  relations  there,  but  several  acquaint- 
ances who  she  hoped  would  receive  us.  She 
reckoned  upon  gaining  her  livelihood  by  her 
needle;  but  we  had  not  travelled  many  days 
before  she  fell  sick,  and  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty we  reached  a  little  hamlet.  When  we 
arrived  there  no  one  would  receive  us,  and  our 
only  shelter  was  a  barn.  My  mother's  illness 
increased  every  moment.  She  sent  for  a  clergy- 
man, and  prepared  herself  for  death.  When 
night  came  on,  the  countrywoman  to  whom  the 
barn  belonged,  said  to  my  mother,  '  Since  you 
are  so  ill,  I  am  willing  to  do  something  for  you.' 
And  she  brought  us  an  oW  lantern  in  which  a 
litde  oil  was  burning,  and  which  she  hung  to  a 
beam.  Her  good  offices  stopped  there ;  and 
after  wishing  us  a  good  night,  she  troubled 
herself  no  more  about  us.  I  remained  alone 
with  my  mother,  seated  on  a  truss  of  straw,  and 


17 

weeping  bitterly.  Towards  midnight,  it  ap- 
peared to  me  that  my  mother  became  paler  and 
paler.  Holding  out  her  hand  to  me,  she  said, 
'  Do  not  weep,  dear  Anthony.  Be  always  in- 
nocent and  pious ;  love  to  pray ;  keep  God 
always  before  your  eyes,  and  He  will  provide 
you  with  another  father  and  mother.'  Those 
were  her  last  words.  She  remained  praying 
for  some  time,  with  her  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven, 
and  then  expired.  I  could  only  cry.  The 
countryman  and  his  wife  had  faithfully  promised 
my  mother  to  receive  and  treat  me  like  their  own 
child.  They  took  possession  of  the  little  she 
had  left,  some  gowns  and  a  small  sum  of  money ; 
but  before  three  weeks  had  passed  away,  they 
turned  me  out,  saying  that  I  had  already  cost 
them  three  times  as  much  as  my  mother  had 
left.  I  took  my  departure,  intending  to  go  to 
Glatz  to  my  school-fellows.  But  the  country 
people  could  not  show  me  the  way  to  Silesia, 
and  I  begged  my  way  through  the  country, 
without  knowing  where  I  was  going,  or  what 
would  become  of  me." 

The  forester's  wife  was  much  affected,  and 
turning  to  her  children  with  tearful  eyes,  "  See, 
2* 


18  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

my  dears,"  said  she,  "  what  your  fate  might  be ; 
you  might  also  lose  your  father  and  mother; 
and  what  would  you  do  ?  Pray  to  God  every 
day  to  preserve  them  to  you. — I  see  very  well, 
my  dear  Anthony,  that  your  parents  were  worthy 
people  ;  but  have  you  no  papers  which  belonged 
to  them?" 

*'  To  be  sure  I  have,"  said  Anthony,  taking  a 
pocket-book  out  of  his  bundle.  "  My  mother 
placed  these  papers  in  my  hand  when  she  was 
dying.  She  desired  me  to  take  great  care  of 
them,  and  never  to  part  with  them  ;  but  I  think 
I  may  show  them  to  you." 

The  papers  consisted  of  the  certificate  of  his 
parents'  marriage,  of  his  own  baptism,  and  the 
death  of  his  father.  The  latter  had  been  written 
by  the  chaplain  of  the  regiment,  and  the  colonel 
had  added  a  very  honourable  testimony  of  the 
courage  and  good  conduct  of  the  quarter-master 
as  well  as  that  of  his  widow. 

"All  this  is  very  satisfactory,"  said  the  forester; 
*'but  now,  Anthony,  tell  me  how  do  you  like 
being  amongst  us  ?" 

*'So  well,"  answered  Anthony,  joyfully, 
"  that  I  feel  as  if  I  were  at  home." 


POOR  Anthony's  story.  19 

**  Would  you  like  to  stay  with  us  ?" 

"  Better  than  any  where  else.  Your  wife  is 
as  gentle  as  my  mother  was,  and  you  are  very 
kind  too ;  and  your  mustachios  are  exactly  like 
those  my  father  used  to  wear." 

At  this  the  forester  laughed. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  stay  with  us,  my  boy.  I 
will  be  your  father,  and  Elizabeth  will  treat  you 
like  her  own  child.  Your  part  will  be  to  prove 
yourself  a  good  child  to  us,  and  to  love  your  new 
brother  and  sisters.  Do  you  hear,  you  are  now 
my  son,  Anthony." 

The  child  remained  for  some  moments  staring 
at  the  good  man,  in  doubt  whether  he  spoke  se- 
riously or  not.  He  had  so  often  been  unkindly 
treated,  that  he  could  now  hardly  believe  that 
the  forester  really  intended  to  adopt  him  as  his 
son. 

"  Well,  Anthony,"  said  the  latter,  "  will  you 
not  accept  us  ?" 

The  child  burst  into  tears,  held  out  his  hand 
to  the  forester,  kissed  that  of  his  wife,  and  em- 
braced the  three  children  as  if  he  was  their  real 
brother.  Christian  and  Catherine  were  very 
much  pleased  to  keep  Anthony,  and  thus  to  gain 


20  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

a  new  playfellow.  The  forester  then  addressed 
Anthony  in  a  serious  manner. 

*'  You  perceive,  my  dear,  that  God  has  had 
your  fate  in  His  keeping.  The  blessing  of  your 
good  parents  rests  upon  you.  God  has  heard 
the  prayer  of  your  dying  mother,  and  also  that 
which  you  addressed  to  Him  in  the  forest.  '  He 
led  you  here.  Had  you  not  heard  our  hymn, 
you  would  have  fallen  asleep  on  the  snow,  and 
I  should  have  found  you  to-morrow  dead  in  the 
wood.  God  has  saved  you !  In  this  holy  night, 
while  our  hearts  were  penetrated  with  love  and 
gratitude  towards  Him,  He  brought  you  to  our 
lonely  dweUing,  which  perhaps  in  daylight  you 
would  not  have  discovered.  To  God  and  to  His 
blessed  Son  you  owe  the  asylum  which  you  have 
found ;  to  that  blessed  Jesus  who,  on  this  same 
night,  nearly  two  thousand  years  ago,  came  into 
the  world,  and  afterwards  died  for  us  all.  Ac- 
knowledge these  mercies,  and  all  your  life  long 
be  grateful  towards  God  and  towards  your  Sa- 
viour. Have  God  always  before  you  ;  and  be- 
have as  a  Christian  ought  to  do." 

Anthony  promised  to  follow  this  good  advice. 
His  wife  showed  the  child  a  small  room  with  a 


POOR  Anthony's  story.  21 

nice  clean  bed  ;  and  they  all  resigned  themselves 
to  repose  with  contented  hearts.  The  next 
morning  the  children  were  again  gathered  to- 
gether round  the  representation  of  the  infant 
Jesus  in  the  manger ;  and  during  Christmas-day, 
and  the  holydays  which  followed  it,  it  was  a 
great  delight  to  them.  But  this  innocent  pleasure 
had  very  nearly  been  spoiled.  A  certain  young 
Mr.  de  Schilf,  a  great  sportsman,  who  often 
visited  the  forester,  came  one  day  into  the  room. 
He  took  upon  himself  to  make  great  fun  of  this 
manner  of  picturing  to  the  children  the  manger 
of  Jesus,  and  said  that  he  could  not  imagine 
what  use  it  was  of. 

"  Of  what  use?'*  said  the  forester.  "Look 
out  of  the  window,  young  sir ;  see  the  earth 
covered  with  snow,  and  the  trees  bending  beneath 
the  weight  of  it;  not  a  flower  is  to  be  seen  but 
what  is  formed  by  the  ice  against  the  panes  of 
glass.  Our  trees  are  stripped  of  their  leaves  and 
fruit,  and  whitened  by  frost ;  and  icicles  hang 
from  our  roof.  These  poor  children  are  im- 
prisoned in  this  room ;  the  cold  prevents  their 
stepping  out  of  the  house.  Is  there,  then,  any 
harm  in  parents  endeavouring  to  procure  them 


22  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

some  instructive  amusement?  This  miniature 
landscape,  with  its  verdant  woods,  its  flower- 
enamelled  fields,  its  sheep  feeding  by  their  shep- 
herds, recalls  spring  to  their  recollection,  and 
forms  nearly  the  only  pleasure  which  they  can 
enjoy  during  the  winter.  But  that  is  the  least 
of  it.  We  Christians  rejoice,  during  the  Christ- 
mas holydays,  over  all  that  God's  infinite  bounty 
has  manifested  to  us  in  the  person  of  Jesus  under 
a  human  form.  The  greatest  painters  in  those 
pictures  which  have  been  the  admiration  of  ages, 
have  endeavoured  to  represent  this  divine  story. 
I  have  myself,  when  travelling,  passed  by  Dres- 
den, and  have  often  admired  that  master-piece 
which  represents  the  birth  of  Jesus,  and  is  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Holy  Night.  The  criticisms 
which  you  may  be  pleased  to  bestow  upon  my 
performance,  imperfect  as  it  is,  may  also  be 
raised  against  that  superb  picture  ;  and  therefore 
they  need  not  be  refuted.  Besides,  as  these 
precious  pictures  are  only  painted  for  the  rich, 
they  would  have  no  value  in  the  eyes  of  children. 
I  am  sure  that  mine  would  not  exchange  their 
manger  for  the  much-extolled  Dresden  picture. 
Allow  us,  then,  my  dear  sir,  to  retain  our  fathers' 


POOR  Anthony's  story. 


23 


ancient  manners.  I  remember  that  when  I  was 
a  child  the  picture  of  the  manger  was  my  greatest 
delight;  and  it  was  not  without  its  use  to  me. 
May  it  also  become  for  my  children  a  source  of 
joy  and  of  blessing  I" 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    FORESTER  S    FAMILY. 


The  keeper  who  had  adopted 
the  poor  orphan  was  an  honest 
and  good  man.  Religious,  and 
benevolent  towards  every  body* 
he  unceasingly  endeavoured  to 
fulfil  his  duty  to  the  utmost,  and 
towards  his  prince  he  was  tho- 
roughly faithful.  His  way  of  living  was  pre- 
cisely the  same  as  that  of  his  ancestors.  His 
first  employment  in  the  morning  was  to  join  in 
prayer  with  his  wife  and  children ;  and  he 
ended  the  day  in  the  same  manner.  "  How 
could  we  do  less,"  said  he,  "  than  lift  up  our 
thoughts  to  Him  who  gives  us  life  and  nourish- 
ment, and  who  showers  upon  us  all  kinds  of 
benefits  ?  It  must,  I  think,  be  a  touching  spec- 
tacle even  for  angels  to  see  a  father  and  mother 


THE    forester's    FAMILY.  25 

kneeling  surrounded  by  their  children,  filled 
with  gratitude,  and  lifting  their  hands  and 
thoughts  to  God.  The  heavenly  Father,  at 
such  a  sight,  will  surely  bless  them."  Before 
and  after  meals,  also,  the  family  addressed  God. 
One  day  Mr.  Schilf  having  accompanied  the 
forester  home,  and  entering  just  as  the  soup  was 
about  to  be  put  on  the  table,  was  invited  to  stay 
dinner.  The  young  gentleman  seated  himself, 
without  waiting  to  utter  any  prayer.  But  the 
keeper,  always  candid  and  frank,  said  to  him, 
"For  shame,  sir ;  it  is  in  this  manner  that  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  forest  behave ;  they  swallow 
the  acorns  without  considering  by  whom  they 
are  sent."  The  young  man  endeavoured  to  ex- 
cuse himself,  by  saying  that  it  was  of  very  little 
consequence  whether  one  uttered  a  prayer  or 
not  at  sitting  down  to  dinner.  The  forester 
then  answered  with  great  earnestness,  "  What- 
ever tends  to  make  us  better  is  of  consequence. 
Piety  is  to  be  desired  for  every  reason ;  but 
never  did  I  find  that  forgetfulness  of  God  brought 
about  good  results  ;  quite  the  contrary.  Join  us, 
therefore,  in  prayer,  as  it  becomes  a  good  Chris- 
tian and  a  reasonable  creature  to  do,  or  this  will 
3 


20  ciiRiimiAii  Evr. 

be  your  laal  day's  sporting  with  mc.  1  will 
partake  of  nothing  in  common  with  a  hcallien, 
nor   will  I   even  .seal  njysclf  at  "  'c 

with   Ijim.      Hui  1   am   sure,"  :»'  ro 

calmly,  ♦'  that  you  did  it  without  reflection.  You 
have  seen  youn;^  men  weal  lhcn)«»r|vcs  at  table 
without  grace,  and  you  have  imitated  them, 
thinking  that  it  made  you  appear  more  foshioQ- 
able." 

Tlie  liappicst  moments  of  ihc  worthy  forciter 
were  those  he  passed  surrounded  by  his  family. 
"Why,"  said  he,  "should  I  go  far  away  to 
seek  for  pleasure,  when  the  sweetest  of  all  is  at 
home?"  When  his  work  was  finished,  he 
quieily  remained  at  home,  chatting  with  his 
wife,  or  relating  amusing  and  instnictivc  stories 
to  his  children.  When  he  was  in  particularly 
high  spirits  he  would  lake  his  harp.  '*  It  is  a 
very  good  amusement,"  said  he,  '*  for  the  long 
winter  evenings."  In  his  youth  he  had  played 
on  the  horn,  but  the  physician  had  forbidden  him 
to  do  so  again  ;  and  as  he  was  fond  of  music,  he 
had  taken  to  the  harp.  His  wife  knew  several 
pretty  songs  ;  and  he  played  the  accompaniment 
to  them  on  this  instrument.     Even  the  childrca 


THE    FORESTER  S    FAMILY.  27 

had  learned  some  lillle  childish  verses,  and  lliey 
san^  ihcm  all  toj^ether,  like  ihe  birds  in  llie  wood. 
'J'he  children  Irequentcd  the  parish  school  of 
Eschenthal.  Christian  and  Catherine  com- 
menced school  again  as  soon  as  the  Christmas 
holydays  were  over,  and  the  roads  passable. 
Anthony  was  delighted  to  accompany  them ; 
and  he  soon  surpassed  all  his  companions.  His 
love  of  study  and  his  capacity  were  extraordi- 
nary. When  the  forester  in  the  evening  re- 
turned from  shooting,  and  seated  himself  in  his 
easy  chair  by  the  fire,  he  would  make  the  chil- 
dren give  him  a  recital  of  what  they  had  learnt 
at  school,  and  show  him  their  copybooks.  An- 
thony's account  was  always  the  best;  his  hand- 
writing the  neatest;  and  he  very  soon  knew 
how  to  read  extremely  well.  When  the  children 
after  supper  took  their  turns  of  reading,  Anthony 
was  always  heard  with  llie  greatest  pleasure. 
The  good  wife  said  that  he  read  so  naturally, 
that  if  one  did  not  see  the  book  in  his  hand,  one 
M'ould  fancy  he  was  relating  a  story. 

The  children  dearly  loved  Sunday.  The 
forester  did  not  shoot  on  that  day ;  and  he  was 
able  to  pass  the  whole  day  at  home.     "  I  am 


28  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

occupied,"  said  he,  "for  six  days  in  the  week* 
without  cessation,  in  my  prince's  service  ;  but 
the  Sunday  is  devoted  to  the  worship  of  a  more 
powerful  master ;  bcsiilcs  wljich,  my  labourers 
and  1  are  very  glad  of  a  day  of  rest." 

Quite  early  in  the  morninjj,  the  father,  mother, 
and  children,  all  repaired  to  the  church  of  E«- 
chonliml.  Tlic  road  to  it  lay  pardy  through 
woody  banks,  and  partly  through  narrow  val- 
leys, surrounded  by  bush-covered  rocks  and 
high  trees.  *♦  Uh,  how  beautiful  is  the  forest !" 
would  Anthony  say  at  such  times  :  *•  how  charm- 
ing is  the  green  of  the  trees  in  die  splendour  of 
the  setting  sun  !  It  appears  to  me  that  Uic  wood 
is  still  more  beautiful  on  a  Sunday  ;  the  green  is 
of  a  softer  hue  ;  and  the  song  of  the  birds  is 
gayer;  and  the  silence  which  reigns  around — 
there  is  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the  church-bell 
sounding  afar  ofT.  It  is  all  as  quiet  and  as  calm 
here  as  in  the  church  itself." 

**  Yes,  there  is  something  almost  as  solemn 
here  as  in  a  church,"  said  lljc  forester.  *'  The 
forest  is  also  the  Lord's  temple.  The  Almighty 
has  placed  these  trees  here  like  columns,  which, 
joining  their  branches,  form  a  roof  of  leaves. 


THE    forester's    FAMILY.  29 

Every  thing,  from  that  enormous  oak  covered 
with  moss,  to  this  little  lily  of  the  valley  grow- 
ing at  our  feet,  proclaims  His  power.  Yes,  the 
whole  earth,  and  as  high  as  the  vault  of  heaven, 
is  a  temple  of  His  magnificence.  Above  all,  on 
a  Sunday,  we  ought  to  adore  Him,  and  regard 
such  beautiful  works  with  devotion.  Here,  in 
this  temple  of  His  forming,  we  acknowledge 
His  incomprehensible  greatness  and  magnifi- 
cence ;  but  it  is  in  our  churches,  although  built 
by  the  hands  of  men,  that  He  reveals  the  decrees 
of  His  sacred  will.  It  was  also  to  this  end  that 
tlie  Son  of  God  became  man,  that  he  taught 
men,  and  ordered  them  to  preach  to  all  the 
world.  In  all  the  places  of  worship  in  Christen- 
dom His  doctrine  is  made  known  to  thousands 
of  men.  For  that  reason,  my  children,  when 
you  are  at  church,  listen  to  every  word  the 
preacher  says,  and  retain  them  all  in  your 
hearts." 

Such  was  the  conversation  which  he  held 
with  his  children  in  going  to  church :  and  on 
their  return  he  spoke  to  them  of  the  service; 
and  they  all  eagerly  related  what  they  could  re- 
member of  it.  But,  above  all  other  times,  their 
*8 


80  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

Sunday's  tliiincr  was  lljc  beet,  because  ihe  for- 
ester on  vcck-days  eat  his  dinner  in  ihe  wood, 
whereas  he  was  now  ready  lo  help  his  chiltlrrn 
with  ihe  kindest  attention.  "  Eat,  my  dears, 
cat,"  he  would  say  ;  •♦  and  thank  God  for  His 
inercirp."  On  rising  frura  table,  lie  walked  out 
with  them,  pointed  out  the  difTerent  trees  and 
planus,  praisin^r  their  beauty  and  variouf  uses. 
"Thus  has  (Jod,"  said  lie,  *' cnibcllislicd  even 
the  smallest  plant,  and  made  it  useful  to  man.** 
l>urni[j  the  spring  and  summer  months  his  wife 
woulil  spread  the  dinner  under  a  large  lime-tree 
near  the  house.  The  good  man  played  the  harp; 
and  the  birds  joined  their  songs  to  lliose  of  the 
family.  Anthony  was  perfectly  happy  in  the 
society  of  these  worthy  people,  under  whose 
roof  reigned  unanimity,  love,  tnic  piety,  indus- 
try, and  contentment.  lie  was  very  grateful  lo 
God  for  having  conducted  him  to  the  habitation 
of  such  a  family  ;  and  he  was  full  of  the  most 
obliging  attentions  towards  his  adopted  parents. 
"When  the  forester  returned  in  the  evening,  An- 
thony ran  to  meet  him,  found  him  his  slippers, 
and  his  old  grey  coat  faced  with  green.  When 
the  wife  was  busied  in  cooking,  he  brought  her 


THE    forester's    FAMILY.  31 

the  wood,  endeavoured  to  assist  her,  and  fore- 
stalled all  her  wishes.  He  really  could  be  of 
some  use  to  his  adopted  father.  The  latter  was 
making  out  a  plan  of  all  the  woods  entrusted  to 
his  care  ;  he  coloured  them,  and  wrote  at  the 
side  in  large  letters  the  name  of  each  of  them, 
adding  a  wreath  of  the  leaves  of  such  trees  as 
each  wood  contained.  Anthony  was  very  soon 
able  to  draw  these  plans ;  and  he  succeeded  so 
M-ell  in  ornamenting  them,  that  the  forester  was 
astonished.  At  one  time  he  would  draw  an  oak, 
against  which  was  hung  a  shield  bearing  the 
name  of  the  wood,  while  at  the  side  was  a  wild 
boar  seeking  for  acorns.  At  another  time  the 
name  of  the  wood  was  engraved  upon  a  rock 
surmounted  by  firs,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  rock 
lay  a  stag.  Anthony  soon  showed  a  decided 
taste  for  drawing;  he  employed  every  leisure 
moment  in  pencilling  or  painting  landscapes, 
animals,  birds,  flowers,  or  trees.  He  was  never 
idle.  The  forester  and  his  wife  loved  this  good 
child  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  their  own  ;  and 
their  cliildren,  excited  by  Anthony's  example, 
became  more  obliging  and  more  active  than  they 
had  ever  been  before. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CONTINUATION    OF    ANTHONY  S   STORY. 

The  forester  one  day  commis- 
sioned Anthony  to  carry  some 
woodcocks  to  tlie  castle  of  Fel- 
-(  ck,  which  was  in  the  neigh- 
Mirhood,    and   belonged   to   the 

^ Mice.     The  agent  had  a  guest 

whom  he  wished  to  treat  with  this  game.  In 
his  way  thither  Anthony  passed  a  cascade, 
which,  emerging  from  among  the  dark  pines, 
fell  from  the  top  of  a  rock  as  white  as  snow. 
At  a  little  distance  he  perceived  a  gentleman 
who  was  sketching  the  cascade  ;  and  drawing 
near  enough  to  him  to  see  the  sketch,  he  ex- 
claimed, "Oh,  how  beautiful!  that  is  indeed  a 
picture !"  He  requested  to  be  allowed  to  see 
this  beautiful  performance  a  little  nearer.  "  It 
looks,"  said  he,  "as  if  this  paper  were  a  look- 


> 


CONTINUATION    OF    ANTHONy's    STORY.        33 

ing-glass,  in  which  is  reflected  in  miniature  the 
cascade  with  the  trees  and  rocks  around  it. 
How  clear  is  this  water  bubbling  from  the  rock! 
and  what  a  fine  effect  that  white  foam  has  on 
the  moss-covered  stones !  and  how  fresh  is  the 
tender  green  which  covers  the  stone, — it  invites 
one  to  take  hold  of  it !  how  boldly  those  firs 
rear  their  heads  towards  heaven  !  and  that  stag, 
which  you  have  just  painted  drinking  at  the 
brook,  how  natural  it  is  !  it  stands  so  lightly, 
that  one  fancies  it  can  run  swiftly;  while  the 
stags  that  I  draw  all  look  as  if  they  were  lame 
—I  cannot  give  them  any  life." 

The  candid  praise  of  the  young  boy  charmed 
the  painter;  but  what  pleased  him  still  more 
was  the  taste  which  he  showed  for  the  art. 

*'  So  you  are  also  a  little  painter?"  said  he  to 
him. 

*'  Oh  !"  said  Anthony,  "until  this  moment  I 
fancied  myself  not  a  little,  but  a  great  painter  ; 
but  now  I  see  that  I  am  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other." 

*'  And  yet  I  should  very  much  like  to  see 
what  you  have  done,"  replied  the  artist,  "  I 
shall  come  and  see  you,  and  you  shall  show 


« 


34  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

them  to  me.  Who  are  your  parents  ?  Where 
do  you  live  ?'* 

'•  Alas  !"  said  Anlliony,  **  I  am  a  poor  orphan. 
Mr.  Griinewald,  the  forester,  has  given  rae  a 
home." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  painter,  "  you  are  some 
relation  of  his  :  perhaps  a  nephew  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Anthony;  "I  came  as  a 
stranjrer  to  his  liouse  ;  he  and  his  wife  received 
me  at  once,  and  treated  me  like  their  own  child." 

*'That  was  a  good  action,"  said  the  painter; 
*' but  let  me  hear  all  about  it."  And  Anthony 
related  his  whole  story. 

The  artist,  after  listening  attentively,  said  to 
him,  "  The  forester  and  his  wife  seem  to  be  very 
worthy  people.  Salute  them  from  me,  and  tell 
them  that  to-morrow  I  shall  come  to  see  them, 
and  thank  them  in  the  name  of  humanity  for  the 
love  they  have  shown  to  you." 

The  painter's  name  was  Riedinger.  He  had 
been  a  few  days  at  the  manor-house  for  the  pur- 
pose of  renovating  some  old  pictures.  lie  took 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  sketch  some  of 
the  mountain  scenery  which  he  admired  so 
much.     On  the  morrow  after  this  conversation 


CONTINUATION    OF   ANTHONy's   STORY.       35 

he  visited  the  forester.  These  two  men  suited 
each  other  extremely  well,  and  became  great 
friends.  The  painter  wished  much  to  see  An- 
thony's drawings.  The  forester's  wife  kindly 
praised  them.  *'  Believe  me,"  said  she,  "  they 
are  excellendy  done."  Anthony  stayed  by  the 
door,  covered  with  blushes.  "Indeed,  Mr. 
Riedinger,"  said  he,  "  there  is  nothing  to  see." 
But  as  the  painter  pressed  him  to  show  them  to 
him,  he  went  for  them.  Mr.  Riedenger  looked 
them  over  with  great  attention,  and  smiled  fre- 
quently. He  was  much  pleased  with  them,  not- 
withstanding their  numerous  faults.  "Really," 
said  he,  "  this  child  may  become  a  good  painter. 
Leave  him  to  me,  Mr.  Griinewald,  and  he  will 
be  the  cause  of  much  happiness  to  you." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  forester,  giving 
him  his  hand.  "For  some  time  past  I  have 
been  in  doubt  what  to  make  of  him.  He  will 
soon  be  fourteen  years  old ;  and  he  knows  all 
that  the  school  at  Eschenthal  can  teach  him. 
He  is  too  delicate  and  too  tender-hearted  to 
make  a  sportsman  of.  He  has  more  of  the  mild 
character  of  his  mother  than  of  his  courageous 
father.     If  you  fancy  that  he  can  ever  be  made  a 


36  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

good  painter  of,  take  and  teach  him.  AVhat  do 
you  ask  a  lesson  ?" 

" What  do  I  ask ?"  said  the  artist;  "do  not 
let  us  talk  of  that.  You  have  taught  me  by  your 
example  how  poor  orphans  ouglit  to  be  treated  : 
one  good  action  leads  to  many  more  ;  they  fol- 
low one  another  as  a  matter  of  course.  Have 
no  anxiety  about  him.  As  soon  as  I  have  fin- 
ished my  work  at  the  castle,  I  shall  take  An- 
thony to  the  town  ;  and  I  will  spare  no  pains  to 
make  him  a  first-rate  artist." 

Anthony  leaped  with  joy.  But  when,  at  the 
end  of  three  or  four  days,  the  painter's  carriage 
stopped  at  the  door,  and  the  time  arrived  for 
leaving  home,  the  poor  child  wept  bitterly.  But 
the  forester  said  to  him,  "Do  not  weep,  An- 
thony ;  it  is  not  far  from  tliis  to  the  town  ;  we 
shall  often  go  to  see  you,  and  you  can  easily 
get  home  on  Sundays  and  holydays. — I  make 
one  condition,"  said  he  to  JNIr.  Riedingcr,  "  that 
Anthony  may  sometimes  come  to  see  us;  and 
especially  that  he  may  always  spend  the  Christ- 
mas holydays  with  us.     You  must  allow  this." 

"  Willingly  ;  and  if  you  and  your  wife  do  not 
dislike  it,  I  will  bring  him  home  myself." 


CONTINUATION    OF    ANTHONy's    STORY.        37 

They  then  shook  hands.  Anthony  again  thank- 
ed his  adopted  parents.  They  advised  him  to 
pay  the  greatest  respect  to  the  master  who  had 
such  kind  intentions  towards  him.  Anthony  got 
into  the  carriage  of  his  new  protector  amidst  the 
blessings  of  the  family. 

The  good  painter  was  punctual  to  his  pro- 
mises. It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  him  to  direct 
the  studies  of  one  who  had  so  much  capability. 
He  often  came  to  visit  the  forester ;  and  even- 
passed  some  days  with  him,  in  order  to  sketch 
the  surrounding  scenery.  He  never  failed  to 
speak  in  praise  of  his  scholar.  *'  Between  our- 
selves," said  he  to  the  forester,  "he  will  be  a 
much  cleverer  artist  than  I  am."  After  some 
years  Mr.  Riedinger  being  at  the  forester's  house 
for  the  Christmas  holydays  with  Anthony,  who 
was  now  become  a  fine  young  man,  he  remained 
alone  wiih  the  forester  and  his  wife  after  supper. 
Anthony  and  the  children  had  been  some  time 
in  bed.  The  good  people  soon  saw  that  Mr. 
Riedinger  had  something  particular  to  say  to 
them.  At  last  he  thus  began  :  "  Anthony  knows 
all  that  I  can  teach  him  :  he  must  now  travel — 
he  must  go  to  Italy — it  will  cost  a  good  deal,  it 
4 


38  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

is  true,  but  no  money  can  be  better  employed ; 
and  I  will  answer  for  the  money  in  time  returning 
a  rich  interest.  The  expenses  of  such  a  journey 
are  far  beyond  the  means  of  a  private  individual ; 
but  a  thought  has  struck  me :  Anthony  will  him- 
self make  something,  but  he  will  want  assistance, 
as  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  have  time  to 
perfect  himself  in  his  art.  I  shall  contribute  as 
much  as  I  possibly  can  ;  for,  encouraged  by  your 
example,  I  am  determined  to  make  Anthony  a 
painter  without  any  expense  to  himself.  His 
works  have  already  paid  me  very  well.  I  have 
put  this  money  aside,  and  I  shall  employ  it  in 
paying  his  journey;  but  it  will  not  be  nearly 
enough.  Will  you  be  disposed  to  supply  the  sum 
which  is  still  wanting?  I  ought  to  tell  you  that 
it  will  be  a  considerable  one  ;  but  ought  we  not 
to  finish  a  work  so  well  begun  ?" 

The  forester  had  seen  Anthony's  good  con- 
duct and  improvement  with  great  pleasure.  His 
fortune  was  considerable.  He  looked  at  his  wife, 
who  answered  him  with  a  nod  of  approbation. 
So,  striking  the  painter's  hand,  he  said,  "  If  the 
sum  be  within  my  means  he  shall  have  it." 

A  calculation  of  the  expenses  of  the  journey 


CONTINUATION    OF    ANTHONl's   STORY.        39 

was  quickly  made  ;  and  it  was  unanimously  re- 
solved that  Anthony  should  set  out  in  the  next 
spring.  The  following  day  the  painter  and  his 
pupil  mounted  their  sledge  to  return  to  town ; 
and  during  the  winter  the  forester  and  his  wife 
made  preparations  for  Anthony's  journey. 

The  good  man  bought  some  cloth,  that  his 
adopted  son  might  be  properly  clothed.  He 
brought  out  his  travelling  trunk,  and  had  it  fresh 
covered  with  doe-skin.  His  wife  and  two  daugh- 
ters worked  most  industriously  to  fill  it  with 
linen.  In  the  beginning  of  spring  he  came  again 
to  pass  a  few  days  at  home.  His  adopted  father 
showed  him  the  greatest  affection,  and  gave  him 
some  more  advice  full  of  wisdom  and  prudence. 
He  took  upon  himself  the  trouble  of  packing  his 
things. 

The  trunk  was  sent  on  before  to  a  celebrated 
artist,  to  whom  Mr.  Riedinger  had  recommended 
Anthony,  who  wished  to  travel  on  foot.  Christian, 
his  intimate  friend,  made  him  a  present  of  a  little 
portmanteau,  in  which  he  could  carry  every  thing 
he  required  for  daily  use. 

At  last  the  hour  of  departure  arrived.  After 
dinner,  Anthony  wished   to   go   again  to   Mr. 


40  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

Riedinger,  and  to  start  from  thence.  They  dined 
together  for  the  last  time.  It  was  an  affecting 
family  feast.  The  forester  looked  around  ;  but 
all  were  silent.  "  Come,  my  children,  be  not  so 
sorrowful;  and  you  also,  dear  wife,  dry  your 
tears.  We  cannot  help  it.  When  sons  grow  up, 
they  must  go  out  into  the  world  ;  and  you  too, 
my  daughters,  you  are  getting  near  the  age  of 
quitting  perhaps  your  father's  roof.  But  even 
when  mountains  and  valleys  shall  separate  us, 
our  spirits  will  be  always  together.  However  sad 
may  be  the  parting,  we  shall  one  day  meet  again 
either  here  or  in  heaven."  The  worthy  man 
succeeded  at  last  in  making  them  more  cheerful. 
He  produced  a  botUe  of  good  wine,  of  a  sort  kept 
expressly  for  feast-days,  and  poured  out  a  glass 
a  piece  for  his  wife  and  daughters.  "  We  must 
give  wine  to  those  in  affliction,"  said  he,  smiling. 
Anthony  and  Christian  held  out  their  glasses 
without  any  pressing.  At  the  end  of  the  meal 
the  forester  lifted  his  glass  and  said,  "A  good 
journey  to  you,  Anthony,  and  a  happy  return  !" 

"  God  grant  it !"  said  his  wife  ;  and  they  all 
drank  with  the  same  good  wishes. 

"  It  is  now  time  to  part,"  continued  the  forester: 


CONTINUATION    OF   ANTHONy's   STORY.       41 

then  rising  he  said,  "  Kneel  down,  my  dear  son, 
that  I  may  give  you  a  father's  blessing."  An- 
thony knelt  down.  The  forester  raised  his  eyes 
to  heaven  ;  his  countenance  and  his  whole  figure 
liad  a  look  of  solemnity.  He  blessed  the  young 
man,  and  added,  "IVftiy  God  accompany  thee  in 
all  thy  ways;  may  He  preserve  thee  from  sin,  and 
return  thee  to  our  arms  good  and  pure  !"  The 
mother  and  children  stood  devoutly  around  with 
joined  hands  and  tearful  eyes,  and  all  uttered  a 
faltering  amen.  The  forester  raised  Anthony, 
and  pressing  him  in  his  arms  said,  "  Go,  and 
God  be  with  you.  Keep  Him  ever  before  your 
eyes,  and  forget  not  that  His  eye  constantly  fol- 
lows you.  Forget  not,  too,  what  you  owe  to  your- 
self. The  wealth  and  pleasures  of  this  world  are 
not  worth  the  trouble  with  which  we  burden  our 
conscience  for  their  sake.  Reflect  that  we  are 
not  created  merely  for  this  short  life,  but  that 
there  is  an  eternity  to  come.  Avoid  every  temp- 
tation to  do  evil ;  avoid,  above  all  things,  the 
company  of  those  men  who  ridicule  the  faith  of 
their  forefathers,  and  who  make  a  mockery  of 
religion  and  pure  morality.     Once  more,  adieu, 

and  may  God  be  with  you !" 
4* 


42 


CHRISTMAS     EVE. 


The  wliolc  family  accompanied  the  young  man 
a  little  way.  At  last  he  bid  them  a  final  fare- 
well, and  proceeded  on  his  way  ;  but  they  remain- 
ed on  the  same  spot  for  some  lime.  Anthony 
frequently  turned  and  waved  his  hat  to  them, 
and  the  forester  and  Chrietian  returned  an  an- 
swer in  the  same  manner.  The  wife  and  daugh- 
ters waved  their  white  handkerchiefs,  until  tiie 
young  traveller,  stick  in  hand  and  knapsack  on 
back,  disappeared  behind  a  woodid  liill. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT. 


The  third  anniversary  of  Christ- 
mas eve  had  arrived  since  the  de- 
parture of  Anthony.  The  keeper 
returned  on  that  day  earlier  from 
the  forest  with  his  son  Christian. 


^  It  was  extremely  cold  ;    the  rays 


of  the  setting  sun  gilded  the  windows  of  the 
room ;  the  round  panes  of  glass  began  already 
to  be  covered  with  ice,  and  shone  like  diamonds 
in  the  red  light  of  the  sky.  The  forester  seated 
himself  in  his  arm-chair  near  the  stove.  He  stir- 
red the  fire ;  the  flame  arose,  and  shed  an  uncer- 
tain light  through  the  room,  and,  reflected  in  the 
windows,  added  to  the  brilliancy  of  the  frozen 
panes. 

The  wife  entered  the  room.    "  Has  any  letter 
arrived  from  Anthony  ?"  asked  her  husband. 


44  CRMaTMAt  BTI. 

*•  No,"  replied  she,  sorrowfully. 

**  It  ii  very  odd/*  said  he,  shaking  his  liead  ; 
'•  wc  have  always  had  a  Inter  from  him  on  Christ- 
mas eve.  He  wrote  so  circumstantially,  that  his 
letters  were  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  the 
day  to  me.  What  can  the  boy  be  about,  to  pre- 
vent his  writing  ?** 

Hardly  had  the  forester  uttered  these  wordt 
when  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  ap|>carcd  at  it. 
Mis  hair  was  whitened  with  frost.  He  held  a  letter 
Ml  his  hand,  and  bore  on  his  back  a  flat  deal  case 
of  considerable  width,  and  so  high  lliat  ho  wai 
obli|;rd  to  stoop  to  get  into  the  room  with  it. 

**  ThisJ  case  inusloontriin  n  iookm'j-ijins!',"  said 
Catherine. 

The  mini  pre>rntLil  a  i<  u*  t  lo  iiic  luri-^it.  r,  ami 
put  down  the  ra.'ic. 

••  It  comes  from  the  painter  Mr.  Riedinger,'* 
said  the  forester :  '•  what  can  it  mean  f  I  almost 
fear  that  something  may  have  happened  to  poor 
Anthony."  He  opened  the  letter  hastily,  and 
read  it  by  the  light  of  the  tire.  *•  Only  imagine," 
said  he,  joyfully,  "  Anthony  sends  us  a  picture 
from  Home  for  our  Christmas  present.  He  has 
directed  it  lo  Mr.   Hicdinger,  and  begged  him 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  45 

to  put  it  into  a  fine  gilt  frame,  and  to  take  care 
that  we  had  it  without  fail  ou  Christmas  eve. 
The  picture  is  a  real  masterpiece,  so  Mr.  Ried- 
inger  says.  Antliony  is  really  an  excellent  young 
man  ;  would  that  I  could  embrace  him  !  Cathe- 
rine," added  he,  "  bring  this  good  man  a  glass  of 
wine  while  supper  is  preparing.  It  will  do  him 
good,  for  the  cold  is  intense  out  of  doors.'* 

The  carrier  was  thankful  for  the  wine,  but  de- 
clined any  thing  more,  saying  that  he  was  going 
to  spend  the  holydays  with  his  friends  at  Eschen- 
Ihal. 

"Now,"  said  the  forester,  "come  all  of  you 
and  sit  down  by  me.  Mr.  Riedinger's  letter 
encloses  one  from  Anthony,  and  I  will  read  it  to 
you." 

Louisa'haslened  to  bring  a  light,  that  her  fa- 
ther might  more  easily  read.  The  contents  were 
as  follows : — 

"My  dear  Father, — You  will  receive  with 
this  a  Christmas  present, — a  picture,  with  which 
I  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  pains.  It  represents 
our  Saviour  in  the  manger.  Several  artists  have 
assured  me,  that  I  have  been  successful  in  it.     I 


40  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

only  wisli  that  it  may  give  you  half  llio  pleasure 
ihal  I  fell  on  scciiiir  ilie  reprcscnlaliou  of  ihe 
infant  Jesus  in  the  manger,  on  the  niglit  that  I 
first  entered  your  Ijousc,  in  wliich  case  your 
pleasure  will  not  be  trilling.  Would  that  I 
could  accompany  my  picture,  and  give  it  you 
myself!  It  is  true  Uiat  Italy  is  a  superb  coun- 
try. I  am  writing  to  you  in  November;  you 
liave  already  had  some  winter.  The  roof  of  your 
houiie,  llie  fir-trees  and  the  oaks,  already,  with 
y9U,  groan  under  tlicir  weight  of  snow  ;  while 
iiere  tlie  orange  ami  lemon  trees  arc  charming 
us  with  their  silver  Jlowers  and  golden  fruit. 
iVcverlheless,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  magnificence, 
I  sigh  for  your  rustic  hcartli,  by  which  I  have 
passed  the  happiest  moments  of  my  life.  It  is  to 
your  kindness  that  I  owe  the  means  of  seeing  the 
fine  sky  of  Italy,  and  becoming  an  artist,  should 
I  ever  deserve  the  name.  It  was  your  repre- 
sentation of  tlie  manger  wliich  lirst  awoke  my 
talent.  It  is  always  before  my  eyes  ;  and  how- 
ever tine  are  the  masterpieces  which  I  have  had 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  here,  they  do  not  pro- 
duce the  same  delightful  effect  on  me  as  that  did. 
The  happy  years  of  childhood  are,  however,  so 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  47 

sweet,  that  all  is  embellished  by  the  brilliancy  of 
our  early  dawn  :  what  a  pity  it  is  that  they  should 
pass  so  quickly  !  When  you  are  reading  my  letter 
and  looking  at  my  picture,  I  shall  be  with  you 
in  spirit.  My  heart  beats  afresh,  when  I  remem- 
ber how  I  came  for  the  first  time  to  your  house 
half  dead  with  cold  ;  how  our  kind  mother  re- 
stored me  by  her  warm  food  ;  how  you  adopted 
me  for  your  son  ;  and  how  Christian,  Catherine, 
and  Louisa,  shared  with  me  their  Christmas  gifts. 
Oh,  my  beloved  father,  I  kiss  with  gratitude  your 
venerable  hands,  and  those  of  my  adopted  mother; 
1  embrace  my  brother  and  sisters  ;  and  I  rejoice 
already  in  the  anticipation  of  being  able  to  say 
to  you  myself  in  a  few  years,  how  much  I  am, 
with  all  my  heart, 

"  Your  grateful  and  affectionate  son, 

"  Anthony. 
''Borne,  November  15,  175G." 

*' There  is  a  nice  letter,"  said  the  forester. 
"  All  that  we  have  done  for  this  good  young 
man  is  but  litde.  I  never  could  have  thought 
that  he  would  have  been  the  cause  of  so  much 
happiness  to  me.  But  here  is  supper  waiting  for 


48  CHRimiAS     EVE. 

us  ;  we  will  look  al  llie  piclure  when  wc  hare 
liiiishcil.'* 

*•  Oh  no,*'  said  lliey  all  wiih  one  accord. 

•*  Wc  woiilJ  much  rather  see  the  picture  than 
cat/'  saiil  Louisa;  *•  but  I  will  frt<li  .moiImt 
light,  that  we  may  examine  it  better. 

Christian  opened  the  case.  ••  Oh,  how  beau- 
tiful !  how  charming  !"  cried  they  all  together. 
•'  What  heavenly  figures  !  and  the  colouring  is 
not  to  be  surpassed." 

The  forester  placed  the  piclure  on  a  little  table 
near  the  wall,  and  set  a  light  on  either  side  of  it. 
All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  brilliant  performance. 
The  forester's  wife  devoutly  joined  her  hands, 
saying,  "  Truly,  nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  I 
I  seem  almost  to  have  been  myself  at  the  manger. 
In  what  a  loving  and  gracious  manner  the  holy 
Child  looks  atone;  it  appears  as  if  upon  His  very 
arrival  into  the  world,  He  would  greet  us  kindly  ! 
And  Mary,  kneeling  before  the  crib— how  her 
eyes,  full  of  lender  alTcclion,  rest  upon  the  Child, 
whom  she  holds  in  one  arm,  while  her  other 
hand  is  placed  upon  her  trembling  heart;  the 
sight  of  ihnt  dear  Child  mnkes  her  unmindful  of 
the  misery  around  her!     IIow  venerable  is  the 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  49 

appearance  of  Joseph,  and  in  what  a  devout  man- 
ner he  raises  his  hands  to  heaven  !  How  honest 
and  upright  are  the  countenances  of  the  shep- 
herds— with  what  piety  and  devotion  are  they 
kneeling !  And  the  angels  above  them — with 
what  heavenly  beauty  they  are  adorned!  And 
the  light  which  beams  from  the  Child,  illumi- 
nating all  around  Him,  surpasses  the  splendour 
of  the  Angels  themselves.  He  must  have  a  heart 
of  stone  who  does  not  rejoice  at  the  birih  of  a 
Saviour,  and  joiu  the  heavenly  choir  in  celebrat- 
ing the  glory  of  the  Eternal." 

The  forester  had  hitherto  examined  the  pic- 
ture in  silence,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  it  or 
uttering  a  single  word  ;  but  on  a  sudden,  as  if 
awaking  from  a  dream,  he  exclaimed,  "  Yes, 
you  are  right.  When  this  divine  story,  so  ably 
represented,  is  before  us,  it  has  a  particular 
effect  on  our  hearts.  I  would  try  to  express  all 
the  thoughts  it  gives  rise  to,  and  all  the  feelings 
it  inspires."  He  drew  his  arm-chair  to  a  little 
distance  from  the  picture,  and  thus  began  :  "  We 
are  desirous,  my  dear  children,  to  direct  our 
looks  to  thelioly  Child  in  the  manger.  For  some 
moments  let  us  not  think  of  His  heavenly  origin, 
5 


50  CIIRIiiTMAS    I.VK, 

bill  let  un  t         MI  in  a?<  a  mere  luiman  child, 
retljlo    ail  .  .    ^"*«    ■'^''il    >vra|)|Kii    in    co  irsc 

swaddling  clothes,  He  reposes  on  a  little  hay  aDd 
straw.     Hut  II is  mother  i^rceu  Him  with  a  Rofl 
smile,  and  lavishes  the  most  tender  cares  uj>oii 
Him:  the  faitiiful  fostcr-fatitcr,  full  of  interest, 
slays  al  His  side,  ready  to  protect  with  his  strong 
arm  llie  mother  and  child,  and  to  support  them 
with  llio  labour  of  his  hands.     A  good  father,  • 
tender  mother,  a  child  who,  though  hanlly  ar- 
rived al  the  age  of  reason,  repays  llieir  love  with 
^^ralilude, — is  ihat  not  the  finest  sight  upon  carlii 
— a  sight  at  which  llic  Angels  lliemselvcs  re- 
joice f     This  alTcclmg  union  wc  owe  to  God. 
Oh,  my  dears,  when  you  sec  this  new-born  babe 
in  the  manger,  say  to  yourselves,  '  I  also,  in  my 
infancy,  was  feeble  and  incapable  of  helping  my- 
self.    I  should  have  died  for  want  of  food,  had 
not  my  parents  tenderly  clicrished  me.     Hut  / 
was  received   with  joy  and  happiness ;  all  was 
prcpartd  for  my  arrival.     My  mother  wrapped 
mc  in  the  linen  which  she  herself  had  spun, 
bleached,  and  made  up  for  me — night  and  day 
she  devoted  her  whole  lime  to  me.     When  I 
slept,  she  watched  near  my  cradle,  and  her  anx- 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  5l 

iety  for  me  often  deprived  her  of  sleep.  My 
father  shared  her  solicitude,  and  worked  for  my 
support.'  Never  forget  these  cares,  and  thank 
God  for  having  given  you  good  parents.  It  is 
He  who  filled  your  mother's  heart  with  this 
inexpressible  love  ;  it  is  He  who  inspired  your 
father  with  such  love  for  you.  Be  not,  then, 
ungrateful  towards  your  parents.  A  son,  or  a 
daughter,  who  could  forget  what  their  mother 
lias  suffered  for  their  sake,  or  how  much  trouble 
it  has  cost  their  father  to  feed,  clothe,  and  bring 
them  up,  would  be  devoid  of  all  feeling.  After 
having  looked  at  the  holy  family,  let  us  glance 
at  the  Angels  whicli  float  above  them,  and  then 
upon  the  animals  which  are  in  the  stable.  But 
first  of  all,  let  us  look  once  more  at  the  blessed 
Virgin ;  her  face  is  expressive  of  divine  inno- 
cence and  of  the  greatest  maternal  tenderness. 
See  then  that  divine  Child,  whose  smile  is  so 
gracious,  and  whose  eyes  shine  like  stars  :  then 
look  down  at  the  rough  coarse  lieads  of  the  ox 
and  ass.  Observe  how  they  put  forwards  their 
noses,  thinking  only  of  their  food  ;  they  know 
no  greater  pleasure.  Who  can  see  the  man 
standing  by  them,  and  not  acknowledge  him  to 


5^  cnRimiAS  evk. 

be  a  hc'in<r  of  a  superior  nature,  Im  lon<,Mii}»  to  a 
higher  claas  ?  'I'lie  most  vulgar  of  u»cn  would 
think  himnelf  insulted,  if  one  were  to  say  that  he 
Avas  not  of  more  value  than  the  ox  that  draws  the 
plough,  or  llie  ass  that  bears  the  burden,  who 
after  death  perish.  No ;  man  is  more  like  the 
Angela  of  (iod,  who  (*an  acknowledge  their  Crea- 
tor, and  sing  His  praise;  for  ho  is  the  only 
earthly  creature  who  can  do  so.  Whatever 
analogy  he  may  have  to  the  animals,  he  is  much 
nearer  allied  to  the  heavenly  Angels.  Although 
he  enters  the  world  with  tears,  and  sutTcrs  much 
while  in  it,  flourishing  but  for  a  time,  to  fade  at 
last  like  the  flower  of  the  field, — although  he 
becomes  dust  like  the  animals,  it  is  only  his  out- 
ward form  that  does  so.  He  has  in  him  an  im- 
mortal spirit;  he  is  an  Angel  under  a  material 
form.  As  soon  as  this  earthly  covering  drops, 
man  becomes  perfect  aa  the  angels,  provided  he 
has  fulfilled  his  destination  upon  earth,  and  has 
lived  conformably  to  the  will  of  his  heavenly 
Father.  The  painter  has  done  well  to  add  a 
lamb  and  a  basket  of  fruit  as  being  presented  to 
the  new-born  child.  All  earthly  creatures  are 
subject  to  man  ;  he  subdues  the  strongest  beasts, 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  53 

and  compels  them  to  serve  him  ;  the  sheep  gives 
to  him  its  flesh  and  its  wool ;  and  earth  pro- 
duces for  him  its  finest  fruits.  God  has  made 
man  only  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  ;  He  has 
crowned  him  with  glory  and  honour;  lie  has 
made  him  lord  of  all  Ilis  works,  and  has  suhject- 
ed  all  to  his  dominion.  The  very  place  in  which 
we  perceive  this  child  and  His  parents,  the  mise- 
rable crib  in  ihe  lowly  stable,  is  not  \vithout  its 
meaning.  Man  requires  not  the  aid  of  a  palace 
to  fulfil  his  destiny ;  he  may  live  happily  in  the 
meanest  cabin,  and  die  there  in  peace.  "We  see 
nought  in  the  stable  but  poverty  and  indigence. 
To  be  really  happy  and  worthy  of  honour,  man 
wants  neither  velvet,  nor  silk,  nor  gold,  nor 
silver.  In  all  matters  of  real  importance,  God 
has  made  no  distinction  between  men.  My  chil- 
dren, all  that  I  have  until  now  told  you  is  most 
consoling  to  us  ;  but  the  finest  portion  of  the 
story,  humanly  speaking,  is  to  come.  The  most 
important  circumstance  is  the  heavenly  origin  and 
high  destination  of  this  holy  child  ;  for  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Almighty,  became  man, 
descended  upon  earth  for  the  salvation  of  man- 
kind (which  was  fallen  from  its  state  of  purity 
5* 


54  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

and  dignity),  and  to  lead  it  again  to  God.  In 
Him  is  manifested  the  goodness  of  the  Most 
High  ;  in  Him  we  see  God  concealed  under  tlie 
form  of  a  mortal.  Born  in  the  extremesl  poverty, 
He  was  cradled  in  a  manger,  had  not  where  to 
lay  His  head,  and  died  on  the  cross  like  a  male- 
factor. And  yet  without  help,  witlioul  riches 
or  any  warlike  pomp,  He  changed  the  aspect  of 
the  earth  by  His  divine  wisdom,  His  love,  and 
His  omnipotence  ;  He  has  enlightened,  enno- 
bled, and  saved  tlie  human  race,  and  thus  proved 
His  divine  origin.  These  are  the  ideas  whicli 
are  suggested  by  the  view  of  this  picture,  in  the 
same  manner  as  if  it  were  the  Scripture  itself. 
You  see,  it  is  at  night;  darkness  covers  the 
country,  and  the  scene  is  only  illuminated  by 
the  light  which  the  holy  child  sheds  around 
Him.  Thus,  at  the  lime  of  Christ's  birth,  did 
the  darkness  of  ignorance  and  paganism  cover 
the  earth ;  but  in  Him  a  light  appeared  wliich 
shone  upon  all  mankind.  They  were  plunged 
in  sin  and  vice  ;  lliey  were  become  like  the  beasts 
of  the  stable,  many  among  them  were  even  more 
degraded  by  their  wickedness;  but  Christ  came 
to  convert  iheni,  and  to  make  all  who  believed 


THE    CHRISTMAS   GIFT.  55 

in  Him  better  men,  saints,  angels  under  a  human 
form.  Before  He  came,  men  were  as  miserable 
as  ihey  were  ignorant  and  vicious.  But  observe 
all  those  who  surround  the  manger  of  Jesus, 
how  happy  they  are,  how  they  rejoice  in  His 
birth  !  At  sight  of  the  new-born  Saviour,  Mary, 
Joseph,  the  shepherds,  all  seem  to  be  lifted 
above  the  cares  of  life.  He  who  was  to  deliver 
mankind  from  their  misery  brings  them  pure  joy 
and  heavenly  peace.  Behold  Him  there  who 
began  at  the  moment  of  His  birth  to  accomplish 
His  sacred  mission.  The  words  of  the  angel 
were  addressed  to  the  whole  world :  "  Behold, 
I  bring  you  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be 
to  all  people  ;  for  to  you  is  born  a  Saviour,  even 
Christ  the  Lord.'  We  are  all  of  us  allowed  to 
approach  Him.  He  first  discovered  Himself  to 
poor  and  simple  country  people,  to  shepherds. 
His  mother  also  was  poor;  His  foster-father 
was  a  workman,  who  gained  his  livelihood  by 
the  sweat  of  his  brow.  While  contemplating 
this  scene,  we  are  taught  that  riches,  honours, 
and  human  wisdom,  have  no  price  in  His  eyes ; 
He  only  desires  that  men's  wills  may  be  pure, 
like  the   blessed  Virgin,  the    upright  Joseph, 


of  rnRi5rrMAS  eve. 

and  \.hc  shepherds,  those  pious  honest  men,  full 
of  the  fear  of  llic  Lord.  Nevertheless  He  will 
receive  even  the  greatest  sinner,  provided  he  re- 
pents of  his  sins,  and  lias  a  firm  intention  of  for- 
sakino^  thcin.  This  is  what  the  child's  name 
signified  ;  this  is  why  the  angel  announced  to 
Mary  the  message  from  God,  '  Thou  shall  call 
His  name  Jesus  ;'  pnd  wliy  he  repeated  the  com* 
niand  to  Joseph,  '  Tliou  shalt  call  his  name 
Jesus,  for  He  shall  save  His  people  from  their 
sins.'  Notwithstanding  its  corruption,  the  hu- 
man race  was  to  hecome  Hii  people,  the  holy 
people  of  God.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the 
sky  above  the  manger  is  represented  as  open. 
Jesus  was  to  open  again  to  men  that  heaven 
which  had  been  sliut  to  them  ;  was  to  found  a 
heavenly  kingdom  upon  earth,  and  thus  to  re- 
unite heaven  and  earth.  This  is  why  the  angels 
of  God  rejoiced  with  exceeding  great  joy  :  they 
glorified  God,  and  congratulated  men  upon  the 
salvation  which  was  prepared  for  them  through 
Christ.  Jesus  has  now  accomplished  that  which 
His  binh  announced,  however  great  have  been 
the  obstacles  which  the  unbelief  and  the  obsti- 
nacy of  men  opposed  to  Him.     He  established 


THE    CHRISTMAS    GIFT.  57 

the  kingdom  of  heaven  upon  earth,  and  His  work 
yet  subsists.  Many  conquerors  liave  since  that 
time  founded  terrestrial  kingdoms,  but  these  have 
had  a  short  duration,  and  have  crumbled  away 
even  before  the  eyes  of  their  founders.  The 
kingdom  of  Jesus,  the  church,  extends  more  and 
more,  and  has  lasted  even  to  our  days.  Whole 
nations  have  been  converted  to  His  faith,  and 
princes  have  made  the  cross  the  ornament  of 
their  crowns.  Human  sacrifices,  and  all  the 
other  abominations  of  paganism,  disappeared 
from  Christian  countries.  A  crowd  of  temples 
and  churches  arose,  where  the  worship  of  the 
true  God  and  divine  truth  was  taught.  Innume- 
rable schools,  charitable  establishments,  and 
hospitals,  were  built  by  Christian  humanity. 
How  many  children,  how  many  poor  and  sick, 
must  have  perished  in  ignorance,  in  crime,  and 
in  misery,  without  these  charitable  institutions  ! 
Millions  of  men  find  in  the  faith  of  Christ  the 
assurance  of  pardon  for  their  former  sins,  and 
guided  by  its  lessons  have  become  better  men. 
And  at  this  present  time,  in  spite  of  the  increase 
of  impiety,  there  are  countless  souls  devoted  to 
His  service,  who  find  in  Him  their  consolation 


58  CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

in  life  and  in  death;  and  the  Gospel,  ihc  glad 
tidings,  is  even  now  being  preached  to  ihc  hea- 
then ;  and  savage  nations,  embracing  the  faith  of 
Christ,  congratulate  each  other  on  the  divine 
truths  whicli  are  announced  to  iheni.  Tor  this 
reason,  the  day  of  Christ's  birth  is  the  most  im- 
portant in  the  liistory  of  the  human  race  ;  and 
our  wise  ancestors  began  with  reason  a  new  era 
on  that  day.  Each  year  that  passes  should  re- 
call to  our  rcmcm!)rance  that  the  birth  of  Christ 
is  also  the  birth  of  all  those  who  will  lay  open 
their  hearts  to  Him.  Now  then,  my  children, 
let  us  join  our  voices  to  the  angels'  hymn,  and 
offer  our  homage  to  our  Saviour." 

Thus  spoke  the  forester.  His  wife,  much 
affected,  added,  "  Yes,  my  children.  Ictus  glorify 
Jesus.  The  splendid  picture  sent  us  by  Anthony 
is  the  most  valuable  present  that  any  one,  even 
that  a  prince,  could  have  made  us.  The  devout 
attention  with  which  you  have  listened  to  the  ex- 
hortation of  your  father  is  the  fittest  manner  of 
celebrating  this  sacred  evening.  We  will  receive 
with  gratitude  the  salvation  sent  us  by  God  in 
the  person  of  the  new-born  Saviour ;  thus  the  day 
of  the  Redeemer's  birth  will  also  become  that  of 
our  salvation." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE   MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER. 


From  the  time  of  Anthony's 
departure,  the  excellent  forester 
lived  a  tranquil  and  happy  life. 
His  children  were  grown  up  ;  his 
son  had  become  a  strong  active 
young  man  ;  the  blooming  fresh- 
ness of  his  daughters  could  not 
be  surpassed  ;  and  the  conduct  of  all  was  the  just 
recompense  for  the  care  he  had  bestowed  upon 
their  education.  Little  by  little  the  good  old 
man  began  to  suffer  the  infirmities  of  age  ;  and 
he  entertained  the  idea  of  giving  up  his  situation 
to  his  son.  The  prince  his  master  came  regularly 
every  year  for  some  days  to  the  Casde  of  Fel- 
seck,  as  he  was  extremely  fond  of  shooting.  His 
manners  were  most  affable,  and  he  listened  with 
the  greatest  condescension  to  any  thing  that  the 


60  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

meanest  of  his  subjects  might  have  to  say.  Oii 
liis  arrival  he  sporlcii  in  lliat  wood  of  which  the 
old  forester  had  llie  care  ;  and  finding  it  in  the 
best  possible  order,  he  advanced  to  the  forester, 
and  tapj)ing  him  on  the  shoulder,  said,  "How 
goes  it  with  you,  good  man  T* 

"  IMease  your  highness,"  said  the  keeper,  **I 
begin  to  grow  old,  and  I  would  willingly  shift  my 
burden  to  younger  shoulders." 

**  Well,"  said  the  prince,  •♦  to  your  son  Chris- 
tian's, I  suppose?  I  sec  him  yonder.  He  is  a 
good  sportsman,  and,  what  I  value  more,  a  clever 
forester.  I  have  remarked,  during  my  walk  this 
morning,  that  these  woods  are  perfectly  well  at- 
tended to.  Depend  on  me,  no  one  else  shall 
have  your  situation,  and  he  may  meanwhile  com- 
mence business.  But  I  should  wish  you  some 
time  longer  to  continue  the  superintendence,  under 
the  title  of  head  forester.  The  best  young  people 
become  careless  and  presumptuous  when  they  are 
too  soon  allowed  to  wear  an  embroidered  uniform. 
It  is  for  my  advantage  as  well  as  your  own  that 
you  should  still  remain  in  office." 

The  forester  expressed  his  gratitude  to  the 
prince,  and  then  added,    ♦'  There  is  yet  another 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER.  61 

subject  on  which  I  wish  to  speak  to  your  high- 
ness. JMy  son  has  at  present  an  opportunity  of 
making  a  desirable  marriage  with  the  daughter 
of  my  old  friend  Bosh,  who  died  some  time  ago ; 
this  young  girl  has  just  lost  her  mother,  and 
knows  not  what  she  ought  to  do.  She  is  poor, 
but  honest,  industrious,  good,  and  modest." 

"I  consent  most  willingly  to  your  son's  mar- 
rying," said  the  prince;  "and  I  commend  him 
for  seeking  for  innocence  and  virtue  more  than 
for  fortune.  I  promise  to  give  him  the  succes- 
sion of  the  forester's  office ;  and  I  will  take  care 
to  have  the  agreement  written  out." 

The  keeper's  son,  who  had  been  waiting  in 
great  anxiety  at  some  distance,  now  advanced 
upon  a  sign  from  his  father,  and  thanked  the 
prince.  The  marriage  took  place ;  the  young 
woman  proved  a  blessing  to  the  family  ;  peace 
and  unanimity  dwelt  under  the  good  forester's 
roof,  who  before  long  had  the  happiness  of  em- 
bracing his  grandchildren,  the  care  of  whom 
seemed  to  bring  a  renewal  of  youth  to  his  excel- 
lent wife.  The  daughters  of  the  house  also 
loved  the  young  woman  like  a  sister,  and  they 
were  all  extremely  happy.  But  this  worthy 
6 


63  ClIRISTMAB     EVE.  i^tt 

family  soon  experienced  a  chanfrc  of  fortune, 
brought  about  by  a  circumstance  which  hail  oc- 
curred long  before, — so  long  as  to  have  totally 
escaped  the  forester's  memor)'.  The  young  Mr. 
dc  Schilf,  who  had  often  been  his  companion  in 
Uie  field,  soon  took  the  liberty  of  beating  the 
covers  without  llic  keeper's  permission  ;  he  even 
took  upon  himself  to  kill  all  the  game  he  could 
find  williout  mercy.  The  forester  meeting  him 
one  day,  told  him  that  poaching  waa  strictly 
forbidden,  and  that  if  he  wished  to  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  sliooting,  he  must  continue  to  go  to 
his  house,  when  he  would  always  accompany 
him  and  show  him  the  best  sport,  and  that  he 
might  then  shoot  what  he  pleased;  but  tliat  he 
could  not  allow  him  to  shoot  alone  in  the  covers 
which  he  had  the  care  of.  The  young  gentleman, 
however,  did  not  desist.  The  forester  again  met 
him,  took  from  him  his  gun,  saying,  at  the  same 
time,  "  God  knows  with  what  regret  I  do  this ; 
but  it  is  ray  duly,  and  I  have  no  alternative. 
Should  I  again  meet  you,  I  sliall  be  obliged  to 
serve  you  with  a  notice,  and  it  may  then  become 
a  very  serious  affair  for  you."  The  honest  keeper 
also  went  to  the  elder  Mr.  de  Schilf,  and  entreat- 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER.  63 

ed  him  to  keep  a  watch  over  the  conduct  of  his 
son.  This  gentleman  usually  allowed  the  young 
man  to  have  his  own  way  entirely ;  but  at  this 
information  he  became  exceedingly  angry ;  for  he 
was  afraid  of  drawing  upon  himself  the  displea- 
sure of  the  prince.  He  threatened  to  disinherit 
his  son  if  ever  he  went  shooting  again  without 
the  keeper.  But  the  young  man  was  too  much 
accustomed  to  disobedience  to  heed  his  father's 
word.  A  short  time  afterwards,  hearing  the  re- 
port of  a  gun,  and  running  to  the  spot  whence 
the  sound  appeared  to  proceed,  the  keeper  found 
the  younger  De  Schilf  standing  near  a  stag  which 
he  had  just  killed.  He  accordingly  brought  an  ac- 
tion against  him.  The  elder  De  Schilf  addressed 
himself  to  the  prince  to  obtain  his  son's  pardon  ; 
the  answer  he  received  was,  that  according  to  law, 
his  son  ought  to  go  to  prison.  "  But,"  said  the 
prince,  "  I  will  pardon  him  this  once.  Should  it, 
however,  again  occur,  let  him  be  assured  that  he 
will  certainly  be  conducted  to  prison ;  and  you 
may  well  imagine  that  I  shall  never  choose  any 
servant  or  officer  of  mine  from  a  place  of  con- 
finement.'* 

The  affair  was  thus  concluded  ;  but  young  De 


64  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

Schilf  conceived  a  iiiorlal  hatred  against  the 
forester,  and  through  a  hmg  course  of  years  he 
thirsted  for  an  opportunity  of  revenging  himself. 
The  reigning  prince  dying  suddenly,  and  his  heir 
being  yet  a  minor  and  on  his  travels,  a  regency 
was  appointed,  and  many  changes  took  place  in 
the  country.  The  younger  Mr.  de  Schilf,  who 
was  very  rich,  and  had  powerful  friends,  obtained 
the  situation  of  ranger.  The  Casdc  of  Felseck 
was  appointed  as  his  residence,  and  he  came  with 
great  ceremony  to  lake  possession  of  it.  lie  thus 
became  head  over  tlie  forester,  and  never  allowed 
an  opportunity  to  escape  him  of  annoying  him; 
he  was  perpetually  finding  fault  with  him,  and 
llie  poor  keeper  cculd  never  do  any  thing  to 
please  him.  At  last  the  hereditary  prince  came 
into  possession;  but  Mr.  de  Schilf,  who  was  very 
clever  and  eloquent,  succeeded  in  obtaining  the 
good  opinion  of  the  surveyor  of  the  woods  and 
waters,  who  was  much  esteemed  by  the  prince. 
Upon  this  he  beliavcd  to  the  forester  with  more 
insolence  and  animosity  than  ever.  *'  You  are 
no  longer  fit  for  service,"  said  he  one  day  to 
the  old  man  ;    '*  and  I  shall  endeavour  to  pro- 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER.  65 

cure  a  more  proper  superintendent  for  these  fine 
woods." 

The  forester  replied,  •'  I  resign  my  charge 
most  willingly;  and  I  should  long  ago  have 
done  so,  if  the  deceased  prince  had  allowed 
me  to  do  it.  My  son  is  therefore  now  keeper 
and  forester." 

"You  think  so,"  said  Mr.  de  Schilf,  smiling 
disdainfully.  "  I  imagine  I  should  have  known 
something  aboiii  it." 

The  forester  appealed  to  the  agreement  of  the 
prince,  in  consequence  of  which  his  son  had 
married. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  de  Schilf,  "  all  that  I  know 
very  well ;"  and  he  explained  it  in  the  following 
artful  manner  :  "  This  is  a  simple  promise,  de- 
pending on  good  behaviour,  that  is  all ;  but  this 
boy  is  good  for  nothing.  I  shall,  I  hope,  make 
a  better  choice." 

The  poor  old  forester  could  hardly  restrain  his 
tears.  "  Mr.  Ranger,"  said  he,  **do  not  be  un- 
just. You  conceived  yourself  injured  by  me  ; 
but  this  is  only  another  reason  why  you  should 
fear  to  do  me  harm." 

*«  What !"  cried  Mr.  de  Schilf,  '*  you  dare  to 
6* 


60  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

remind  mc  of  your  own  inipcrlinenrc  ;  you  your- 
self call  lo  my  remembrance  llial  you  deprived 
nie  of  the  sole  enjoyment  of  my  youth,  and  de- 
famed me  at  court  ?  You  are  an  impudent  rascal, 
who  have  never  shown  any  respect  for  your  supe- 
riors, but  liave  encouraged  beggars.  You  allowed 
your  son  to  marry  a  girl  without  a  penny,  a 
regular  pauper;  you  spent  your  money  on  lliat 
little  good-for-noihing  wretched  Anthony ;  you 
never  knew  how  to  economize  )(|)urown  fortune 
— how,  then,  should  you  be  able  to  dispose  of 
that  of  another,  or  watch  over  the  interest  of  the 
prince  ?  Go — go — you  are  of  no  further  use.  I 
trust  we  may  be  soon  independent  of  each  other  ; 
till  when,  pray  keep  out  of  my  sight." 

The  forester  retired,  saying  to  himself,  •'  Let 
the  ranger  say  w'hat  he  may,  my  w  oods  are  in  the 
best  possible  order.  Notwillislaiuling  iho  malice 
he  shows  me,  he  can  do  me  no  harm." 

When  he  went  home  he  made  no  iiit  iiiion  of 
what  had  passed  to  his  family,  being  unwilling 
to  annoy  them  unnecessarily  ;  but  shortly  after- 
wards, one  evening  on  his  return  from  the  forest, 
he  had  scarcely  had  time  to  scat  himself  in 
his  arm-chair,  when  a  messenger  from  the  ofhce 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER.  67 

of  the  woods  and  forests  made  his  appearance, 
bearing  a  letter.  This  paper  signified  that  the 
old  forester  was  discharged  from  his  situation 
on  account  of  incapacity  occasioned  by  old  age  ; 
and  that  while  inquiries  were  made  after  another 
forester  to  replace  him,  the  care  of  the  forest 
should  be  committed  to  the  neighbouring  forester 
living  at  Waldenbusch.  Not  a  word  was  said  of 
a  pension  for  the  old  man  who  had  been  of  so 
much  service,  norof  any  employment  for  his  son. 
It  was  moreover  added,  that  from  the  time  of  the 
discharge  being  delivered  to  the  woodman,  he 
was  forbidden  to  fire  a  shot,  or  to  carry  a  gun, 
under  pain  of  arrest.  The  old  man  was  astound- 
ed, and  his  hand  trembled  violently  ;  but  soon 
recovering  himself,  he  read  the  paper  aloud  to 
his  wife  and  children,  who  were  seated  around 
him  at  their  different  occupations.  The  wife  and 
daughters  grew  pale  with  alarm,  while  the  young 
man  burned  with  indignation  at  the  malice  of  the 
ranger.  His  young  wife,  after  a  moment's  silence, 
began  to  weep  bitterly,  and  her  children,  who 
were  playing  near  her,  wept  also  at  the  sight  of 
their  mother's  tears.  It  was  a  scene  of  complete 
despair.     The  venerable  old  man  alone  remained 


68  rURISTMAfl    EVE. 

calm  amidsl  his  family.  '•  Forget  not,'*  said  he, 
**  that  (Jod  remains  to  us.  He  then  the  first  to 
dry  your  tears,  my  dear  wife,  and  give  our  child- 
ren an  example  of  trust  in  (lod.  Had  men  can 
do  us  no  harm  without  His  permission.  It  is  He 
who  sends  ns  this  trial,  which  will  one  day  or 
other  turn  to  our  profit.  He  of  good  courage. 
God  is  all-powerful;  He  is  our  protector,  and 
eren  when  the  whole  world  ahandons  us,  He  will 
be  with  us.  Our  heavenly  Father,  who  is  the 
giver  of  all  good,  will  never  let  us  want  for 
bread  ;  let  us  put  our  tnisl  in  Him,  and  not  de- 
spair." He  however  added,  •*  I  will  not  neglect 
any  thing  that  may  be  in  our  favour.  Early  to- 
morrow morning  I  will  set  out  for  the  capital. 
The  prince  is  as  generous  as  his  deceased  fa- 
ther;  and  whatever  may  be  his  occupations  at 
this  commencement  of  his  administration,  he 
will  listen  to  me;  he  will  never  allow  his  old 
servant  for  fifty  years,  with  his  wife,  his  rhild- 
ren,  and  grandchildren,  who  has  faithfully  ful- 
filled his  duty,  to  die  of  hunger.  Christian,  you 
must  accompany  me;  we  may  now  both  absent 
ourselves  without  leave  of  the  ranger.  We  shall 
go    on  foot,  for  in  our  present  circumstances, 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER.  G9 

horse  or  carriage-travelling  would  be  Hir  too  ex- 
pensive, even  if  it  were  necessary.  Our  game- 
bags  will  carry  the  clothes  which  we  want  for 
the  journey — so  bestir  yourselves,  that  all  may 
be  ready  early  to-morrow."  The  next  morning 
before  daylight  the  good  man  was  up,  and 
awakening  his  son,  said,  "Let  us  be  off;  I  can- 
not wait  until  sunrise  ;  there  is  moonlight,  and 
we  know  our  way.'* 

The  old  woman  carefully  folded  up  her  Iius- 
band's  green  and  gold  embroidered  uniform  in  a 
clean  napkin,  that  it  might  be  more  easily  packed 
in  the  game-bag;  Catherine  attended  to  the 
linen  and  provisions  for  the  journey  ;  and  the 
young  wife  and  Louisa  set  out  the  breakfast 
which  they  had  prepared.  The  children  still 
slept. 

"  And  when  do  you  purpose  returning  ?"  said 
the  forester's  wife  to  him. 

*'  I  cannot  say  for  certain,"  replied  he  ;  *'  pro- 
bably not  for  a  week." 

"To-morrow  fortnight  will  be  Christmas  eve," 
said  the  good  woman  ;  "  before  that  lime  you  will 
surely  return  ?" 

"I  hope  to  be  here  in  a  week,"  replied  he; 


T%  CHRISTMAS    BTI. 

♦•  but  happen  what  may,  I  am  determined  to 
celebrate  Christmas  eve  with  you." 

♦*  (Jod  grant  that  it  may  be  a  joyful  mating  !'* 
said  the  wife. 

*'  In  the  nionn  tiiuf  prny,  imd  jmi  your  ini"*i  in 
God,"  said  her  huj*band.  '•All  that  He  hy^ 
upon  us  is  for  our  final  good." 

The  two  travellers  were  acrompanicd  to  iIk* 
door  of  the  hou.se  by  the  whole  family.  It  was 
rery  dark,  and  the  middle  of  a  terribly  cold  De- 
cember night.  Those  who  were  left  beliinil  could 
not  conceal  their  uneasiness  ;  they  trembled  for 
the  health  of  the  old  forester.  During  the  first 
week  the  srood  people  found  great  difTiculty  in 
tranquillizing  their  minds;  but  when  one  day 
after  another  passed  away,  and  the  weather  be- 
came rainy  and  disngrecnble,  they  abandoned 
themselves  to  the  liveliest  anxiety.  *'  Ah,"  said 
they,  ••  Christian,  though  strong  and  healthy, 
will  have  much  to  bear  ;  but  what  will  become 
of  our  poor  old  father  ?" 

The  children  were  incessantly  running  to  the 
door  to  see  if  their  father  and  grandfather  were 
arrived.  Another  week  had  passed  away  in  the 
greatest  inquietude,  to  add  to  which,  one  of  the 


MISFORTUNES    OF    THE    FORESTER. 


71 


ranger's  huntsmen  delivered  an  official  paper. 
The  wife  of  the  forester  dared  not  open  it,  fearing 
that  its  contents  might  be  of  bad  import ;  the 
lacquey  having  remarked,  in  an  impertinent  man- 
ner, *'  that  the  forester  was  a  silly  old  man  to  set 
out  for  the  palace  with  his  wild  son.  The  ranger 
is  on  the  safe  side,  and  they  will  get  nothing  but 
shame  for  their  pains." 

Nevertheless  the  family  of  CJri^newald  prayed 
daily  to  God  for  the  travellers'  safe  return  as 
well  as  for  their  favourable  reception  at  the  court 
of  the  prince. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    forester's    FURTHER    DISASTERS. 

In  the  mitlst  of  these  dismal  oc- 
currences Christmas  eve  arrived. 
N  ight  closed  in  sooner  than  usual, 
for  the  sky  was  overcast  with 
thick  clouds.  A  stormy  wind 
whistled  through  the  old  oaks, 
and  bent  the  pines  of  the  forest. 
It  snowed  and  rained  ;  and  the  water  from  the 
gutters  of  the  roof  resembled  torrents  from  the 
top  of  a  rock. 

"  Alas  !"  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  after  hav- 
ing looked  out  of  the  window  for  some  time, 
"  they  do  not  come.  Should  they  not  arrive  for 
this  Christmas  eve,  some  misfortune  must  surely 
have  befallen  them.  My  anxiety  becomes  insup- 
portable. The  weather  is  terrific,  and  the  roads 
must  be  impassable.    If  they  were  but  returned, 


THE    FORESTER  S    FURTHER    DISASTERS.       73 

all  my  cares  would  vanish,"  ackled  she,  again 
opening  the  window.  A  moment  passed.  *'  God 
be  praised  1"  she  ejcclaimed,  "  they  are  here  !" 
All  ran  to  the  door  to  question  them  as  to  the 
issue  of  their  visit  to  the  town. 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that  all  will  turn 
out  for  the  best ;  but  you  must  have  been  uneasy 
about  us  ;  we  have  been  a  long  time  away.  I 
was  obliged  by  illness  to  stop  on  the  road  ;  and 
when  I  recovered,  the  rivers  and  brooks  were  so 
swollen  by  these  heavy  rains,  that  we  were  de- 
tained for  several  days.  But,  God  be  praised  ! 
here  we  are."  And  entering  the  house  he  changed 
his  clothes,  and  seated  himself  in  his  arm-chair 
by  the  fire.  His  wife  brought  a  lamp,  a  bottle 
of  wine  and  two  glasses. 

"  Refresh  yourselves  a  little,"  said  she,  pouring 
out  some  wine.  "  you  must  be  in  great  want  of 
it.     Supper  will  be  ready  directly." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  forester,  looking  around 
him  by  the  light  of  the  lamp.  "  It  is  a  blessing 
to  find  oneself  at  home,  surrounded  by  joyful 
and  affectionate  faces."  But  the  young  man  had 
M'hispered  to  his  wife  that  things  were  not  going 
on  so  smoothly,  and  that  probably  the  forester 
7 


74  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

would  lose  his  place.  Hcing  much  alarmed,  she 
confided  ihc  intelligence  to  the  rest  of  the  family ; 
mid  the  old  man  quickly  perceived  thai  their 
coimtenanccs  were  overiMsl  wiih  ft*ar  and  anxiety. 
"Christian  has  been  chattering/*  said  he,  '*«o  I 
have  notliing  more  to  conceal.  You  shall  know 
all;  but  do  not  give  way  to  sorrow.  On  this 
night  our  Saviour  was  born  ;  and  the  joy  which 
wc  onglit  to  feci  should  make  us  fitrgetall  earthly 
cares,  or  at  least  prevent  us  from  fretting  about 
tliem.  We  arrived  late  in  the  evening  at  the 
capital,"  continued  he;  "but,  late  as  it  was,  I 
called  on  the  minister  of  the  foresU*,  Mr.  Mull<?r« 
He  is  an  upri«;lit  man,  said  I  to  myself.  He 
was  for  a  long  time  over  me  as  ranger ;  and  was 
always  my  friend.  The  other  members  of  the 
council  are  dead,  or  retired;  and  although  he 
abo  has  declined  liaving  any  thing  to  do  with 
affairs,  on  arcount  of  Wis  age,  he  may  be  able  to 
advise  me  well.  The  worthy  man  received  rac 
most  cortlialiy.  After  I  had  laid  open  to  him  the 
object  of  my  journey,  he  said,  ♦  You  have  a  very 
dangerous  enemy  in  the  ranger;  who  is  supported 
by  powerful  interest.  He  wishes  to  place  a  former 
servant  of  his  in  vour  situation,  and  he  is  con- 


THE    FORESTER  S    FURTHER    DISASTERS.       75 

tinually  making  unfavourable  reports  of  your  con- 
duct and  that  of  your  son;  and  I  much  fear  that 
he  will  succeed,  and  deprive  good  Christian  of 
liis  father's  office.'  I  answered  him,  that  I  in- 
tended myself  to  go  to  the  prince.  '  Do  so,'  said 
my  adviser  ;  '  and  I  will  accompany  you  :  but  you 
arrive  at  an  unfavourable  moment.  His  highness 
is  much  occupied  just  now;  and  you  will  find 
difficulty  in  being  admitted.  You  must  also  call 
on  the  director-general  of  the  administration  of 
the  forests  as  well  as  on  the  ministers ;  but  I  fear 
you  will  not  have  a  good  reception,  Mr.  de  Schilf 
has  prejudiced  them  all  against  you.'  I  found 
that  Mr.  Miiller  was  perfectly  right.  The  director- 
general  received  me  very  coldly,  and  granted  me 
but  a  moment's  audience.  The  ministers  treated 
me  hardly  any  better;  I  saw  only  gloomy  counte- 
nances ;  and  I  was  obliged  to  endure  very  hard 
words.  The  prince  did  not  receive  me,  because 
the  director-general  was  with  him  at  that  very 
time.  Mr.  de  Schilf  had  most  artfully  calum- 
niated both  me  and  Christian  ;  but  as  you  under- 
stand nothing  of  these  things  I  will  drop  this 
subject.  Our  only  hope  now  was  to  lay  an  infor- 
mation ;  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  those  to  whom 


76  CHRISTMAS    EVK. 

our  cause  inny  be  commillcd  will  be  ill  disposed 
towards  ua.  Enough  of  tliis.  On  ibis  evening 
all  Cbrislendom  should  rejoice;  il  is  (Hiristnins 
eve.  Lei  us  medilate  on  our  Saviour's  hii  ih  ;  this 
thought  will  dispel  our  sorrows." 

He  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  |>icmre  ol  the 
birtli  of  Jesus,  Anftiony's  Iwautiful  present.  It 
occupied  the  place  of  the  lookin^-glaM,  and  was 
covered  with  a  veil  for  its  preservation. 

The  young  forester's  two  lovely  children, 
Francis  and  Clara,  had  anticipated  the  celebration 
of  Christmas  eve  with  great  pleasure.  They  rose; 
and  wiping  away  iheir  tears,  asked  llieir  grond- 
niolher  to  remove  the  veil  from  the  picture,  and 
to  light  the  wax  candles,  as  she  had  done  the  year 
before,  so  as  to  sec  it  belter.  *'  And,  grandfather/* 
said  Clara,  **  take  your  harp,  that  we  may  sing 
the  Christmas  carols  which  mother  taught  us." 

*•  You  are  right,"  said  the  forester  ;  *'  let  us 
sing  a  Christmas  carol." 

'*  But  first,"  added  he,  **  has  any  thing  particu- 
lar occurred  during  our  absence?'* 

*•  Notlungat  all,"  replied  his  wife,  '*  but  the 
arrival  of  another  government  paper  ;**  at  the 
same  time  placing  the  sealed  letter  in  his  hand. 


THE    FORESTER  S    FURTHER    DISASTERS.       77 

He  opened  it  with  much  agitation,  and  raising 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  exclaimed,  "  Thy  will  0  Lord 
be  done !" 

Every  one  looked  anxiously  towards  him. 

"  What  is  it?"  said  the  grandmother. 

**  We  must  leave  this  house  directly,"  answer- 
ed he  ;  "  indeed  we  ought  already  to  have  quilted 
it.  The  ranger  orders  us  in  this  letter  to  leave 
the  house  at  the  latest  on  Christmas  eve,  in  order 
that  the  new  woodman  may  enter  upon  his  new 
office  during  the  holydays.  He  threatens  us,  in 
case  of  disobedience,  to  have  us  turned  out  by 
the  sherifT's  officers.  I  am  surprised  that  they 
are  not  already  here  ;  we  may  expect  them  every 
moment  to  turn  us  out  of  doors." 

"Heavens,"  exclaimed  the  young  woman; 
*♦  in  this  dreadful  night  ?  Only  listen  how  it  pours, 
and  how  the  wind  whistles  !  Where  shall  we  find 
a  shelter  from  the  storm  and  rain  ?"  and  pressing 
her  two  children  to  her  breast  she  sank  upon  a 
chair.  "  Gracious  God,"  exclaimed  she,  "  have 
pity  on  these  innocents  !"  Her  husband,  stand- 
ing motionless  by  her  side,  regarded  her  and  his 
children  with  tearful  eyes. 

'*  Oh,  my  God  !"  said  the  old  woman,  sobbing 
7* 


78  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

and  wringing  her  hands  ;  •*  to  ho  turned  out  in 
nay  old  age,  witli  our  rliiklrcn  and  our  grand- 
cliildrcn,  from  llic  house  where  I  was  horn,  and 
where  my  father  and  grandfather  lived.  Clra- 
cious  God1  let  me  die  in  the  place  of  my  hirih." 
Catherine  wept  in  silence  ;  Louisa  trrtnhled 
like  a  lanih  led  to  slaughter;  while  the  venerable- 
looking  old  forester,  wiili  his  hald  forehead  and 
silver  hair,  snid,  in  a  calm,  tranquil  voice,  **  Yes, 
my  dear  cluldren,  this  liouse  we  must  leave  ;  and 
where  to  seek  for  hospitality  for  us  all,  I  know 
not;  we  must  therefore  separate.  I  did  hope,  it 
is  true,  to  have  enjoyed  amongst  you  a  peaceful 
old  age ;  I  did  hope  to  have  seen  you  gathered 
round  my  dcnth-bcd  under  this  roof;  but  (lod 
has  otherwise  decided  it;  let  us  submit  to  His 
holy  will."  He  glanced  towards  his  grand-chil- 
dren, and  then  continued,  "If  our  hearts  are 
wounded  at  the  sight  of  their  tears,  is  not  the 
fatherly  heart  of  God  more  tender  still  than  ours  ? 
Surely  when  He  sends  us  such  heavy  trialn.  He 
does  it  in  the  most  perfect  wisdom.  This  very 
sorrow  will  turn  to  our  good.  Our  ancestors 
said,  from  experience,  that  when  trouble  is  at  its 
highest  pilch,  then  does  God  send  help.     Wc 


THE    forester's    FURTHER    DISASTERS.       79 

have  often  celebrated  the  feast  of  Christmas  eve 
in  this  very  chamber,  in  joy;  it  is  now  God's 
will  that  we  should  pass  it  in  sorrow  :  let  us  learn 
to  submit  with  resignation." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  my  dear  husband,"  said 
the  good  woman.  "We  will  throw  all  our  care 
upon  Providence,  and  remain  calm  under  the 
misfortune  which  strikes  us.  I  have  often  put 
myself  into  the  place  of  the  blessed  Mary,  who 
M'as  not  only  obliged  to  pass  the  night  in  a  sta- 
ble, but  who  was  also,  like  us,  obliged  to  leave 
her  dwelling  in  the  night,  and  to  carry  the  holy 
Child  into  a  strange  land.  However  great  her 
faith,  her  love  for  her  Child  must  have  often 
caused  her  to  shed  tears.  Ilcr  anxieties  were 
heart-rending.  Every  person  during  his  sojourn 
upon  earth  must  sufler  as  she  did  ;  for  God  tries 
all  His  children.  The  events  of  the  sacred  history 
are,  as  one  may  say,  renewed  in  us.  But  he  who 
sent  Mary  in  the  stable — while  on  her  melan- 
choly journey — comforting  friends  and  angels  for 
her  guides,  will  not  leave  us  comfortless,  and  will 
help  us  in  his  own  good  time." 

At  that  moment  knockings  were  heard  at  the 
door.  "  Here  they  are  to  unhouse  us,"  said  the 
old  man. 


80  CHRISTMAS    LVK. 

His  son  shuddered,  :uul  glancing  at  his  gun, 
said,  "Lei  ihcni  roine !  lei  them  dare  to  turn 
my  old  parents,  my  dear  wife  and  eliildren,  and 
my  sisters,  oul  of  doors  ;  and  llie  first  dial  lays  a 
hand  on  cither  of  you  I " 

*' Oh  !  no,  no,  my  son,"  said  the  father,  "do 
not  fmi.sh  the  terrible  words  which  you  were 
about  to  pronounce.  God  is  above  litem  and  us ; 
He  only  is  our  refuse  and  prolection.  Should 
our  prayers  and  representations  have  no  eirecl 
on  these  men,  we  will  leave  the  house  wilhout 
being  forced  to  do  so;  and  wc  will  take  refuge 
for  the  nigh  I  in  that  cavern  which  has  so  oflen 
sheltered  us  in  our  sporting  expeditions.  Alas!'* 
said  he  rising,  *'  would  that  we  could  all  look 
forward  with  confidence  into  the  future;  and 
place  our  destiny  in  the  hands  of  Him  whose 
goodness  towards  us  equals  His  power." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    UNEXPECTED    VISITOR. 

More  knocking  at  the  door  fol- 

\cil,  and  the  forester  ordered 

.    hia  son  to  open  it,  when  in  a  few 

i  _  ^1  moments  there  stepped  into  the 

|||  fjlj  room  a  stranger;   he  was  a  tall 

I  well-looking  man,  enveloped  in 

u  --:.-  J,  cloak  with  a  fur  cap  shading  great 

part  of  his  face.  "This  is  the  new  forester," 
said  they  all  with  alarm  :  but  the  stranger  him- 
self seemed  frightened  at  the  tearful  eyes  and 
pale  cheeks  which  he  saw  before  Iiim. 

Having  taken  ofl'  his  cap,  he  remained  for  a 
moment  motionless,  and  then  said,  "  So  you  do 
not  know  me  ?" 

At  last  Louisa  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  It  is  An- 
thony !" 


82  CHRlfTMAS    IVE. 

*•  Anihony  !'*  cried  (Catherine  :  •*  is  it  poMH 
ble  r 

"What  arc  you  thinking  ot  .'  ...  the  old 
woman ;  '*  this  gentleman  if  much  taller  and 
stouter  than  Anthony.** 

•♦Indeed  it  is  he,*'  said  Christian.  ..  ..  An- 
thony. For  heaTen*s  sake,  my  dear  brother,  what 
brings  you  here  ?  I  thought  you  were  at  Rome, 
hundreds  of  nnles  away.*' 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  doubting 
the  evidence  o(  his  own  tenses,  slowly  advanced, 
when  nil  at  once,  catching  him  in  his  arms,  he 
exclaimed,  *'  Oh,  my  son  Anihony !"  and  ihcy 
remained  closely  embraced  fer  some  momenlt. 
Anthony  then  pressed  his  venerable  mother  10 
his  heart,  and  in  their  turn  his  brother  and  sis- 
ters ;  his  joy  at  the  sight  of  lliem  was  unbounded. 
He  also  showed  gre.it  interest  in  the  young  wife 
and  her  children,  whom  he  now  saw  for  the  first 
lime. 

The  happiness  of  this  unexpected  meeting 
banished  sorrow.  The  good  old  grandmolher 
was  the  first  to  remind  him  of  their  painful 
situation.     *'  My  dear  Anthony,"  said  she,  *'  you 


THE    UNEXPECTED    VISITOR.  83 

arrive  at  a  very  uiirortiinate  moment  for  us;  sit 
near  me,  tliai  I  may  talk  to  you  of  our  disasters." 

'*  I  know  all,"  said  he  :  '*  but  liavc  no  further 
anxiety,  my  dear  parents  ;  your  alFairs  are  mend- 
ing. I  have  seen  the  prince,  my  dear  father; 
and  he  desired  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  you." 

*'  To  me  '."  said  llie  old  man  ;  *'  how  did  you 
get  lo  speak  to  the  prince  ?  I  am  amazed,  and 
can  only  look  on  this  as  a  happy  dream." 

*'  No,  no,"  replied  Anthony,  "it  is  all  true; 
seat  yourself  in  your  own  chair,  dear  father — and 
you  also  my  worthy  motlier  sit  here  a!id  listen 
U)  my  story."  The  dclighicd  parents  sealed 
themselves  on  each  side  of  him  ;  and  surrounded 
by  the  other  members  of  the  family,  who  listened 
with  allenlion  anil  astonishment,  he  began  :  "  Our 
present  prince  as  you  well  know  travelled  some 
time  ago  in  Italy.  When  at  Rome  he  visited 
an  exhibition,  where  all  the  newest  pictures  of 
young  artists  were  exposed.  Among  these  pic- 
lures  there  was  one  which  pleased  him  particu- 
larly;  and  on  inquiring,  he  found  that  the  painter 
was  a  young  man  named  Anthony  Croner.  He 
sent  for  me,  praised  my  work  excessively,  and 
behaved  towards  me  with  the  greatest  afTability. 


84  cuRirrXA!i  i:vi:. 

He  asked  luc  to  fix  a  price  fur  my  picture; 
and  with  a  generosity  equal  lo  his  lii^rh  birth,  ho 
paid  me  much  more  than  I  dcniutiJcd.  V'er)r' 
often,  when  he  vimicd  tiic  most  celebrated  pio- 
tiires  at  Homo,  ho  mviled  me  to  accompany  him. 
I  went  with  him  m  his  carrb(n?»  and  often  dmod 
at  hiH  la!)lo.  Alniut  tiut  time  there  was  at  Uomc 
a  sale  of  several  old  pietofet  of  great  beauty. 
Tlie  prince  wiahcd  mo  to  view  them  with  him ; 
and  whenever  :i  sulijecl  plca.<<cd  iiim.  he  a^ked 
my  opinion  of  ita  worth.  The  collection  was  to 
bo  sold  by  '     '       '  '     '     ' 

the  prince  i  ■ 

to  return  to  his  countr}'.  to  take  the  conduct  of 
atTairs.     He  coi:  1  me  to  '  the 

pictures  for  hin  .  <   l»c  cani  liiey 

reached  him  uninjured.  I  felt  much  flattered  by 
this  conlidonre,  ami  t     "  'mif 

his  cominii^Hion.     I  v  .       '  ob- 

tain the  paintings  for  a  much  less  sum  than  that 
to  which  I  hail  heen  limited.  Ilavini^  seen  all 
thai  was  worth  a  painter's  notice  in  Italvi  I  de- 
termined to  return  to  my  own  country;  and 
learninu  that  a  vessel  was  on  the  point  of  sailing. 

I   rin'. :..'..>!    v.ir')    nil    n,v    r.,l!r-!inn     -iru!    \:.r.<\cd 


THE    UNEXPECTED    VISITOR.  85 

safely  wiili  my  precious  treasure.  I  then  hired 
a  carriage  to  convey  the  pictures;  and  that  they 
might  not  be  damaged,  I  did  not  lose  sight  of 
them  unlil  iheir  arrival  in  the  capital.  On  quil- 
ling the  carriage,  I  hastened  to  court,  and  sent 
in  my  name.  The  prince  rising  from  table, 
received  me  in  liis  own  room.  '  Welcome  to 
Germany,'  said  he  to  me  with  great  kindness; 
•what  beautiful  things  do  you  bring  me  from 
Italy?'  *The  pictures,'  I  replied,  'that  your 
highness  commissioned  me  to  purchase  for  you.' 
•  And  how  many  of  them  have  you  succeeded  in 
getting  ?'  said  he,  quickly.  *  All,  your  highness.' 
'  What,  all !'  said  he  joyfully  ;  '  that  is  excellent.' 
He  then  gave  orders  that  the  pictures  should  be 
unpacked  and  hung  up.  I  assisted  in  the  work, 
and  they  were  all  found  to  be  perfect.  The 
prince  was  delighted.  I  delivered  him  up  the 
receipts  of  the  sums  I  had  paid.  *  The  purchase- 
money  is  much  less,'  said  he,  '  than  the  i^um  I 
had  allowed  you  to  go  to.'  I  asked  him  to  whom 
I  should  remit  the  money  which  remained  in  my 
hands.  '  Oh,'  said  he,  with  great  aOability,  •  do  not 
mention  that ;  for  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  ; 
and  if  you  arc  satisfied  with  me,  I  am  still  more 
8 


86  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

SO  wiili  you.  But  you  must  be  fatigued  with 
your  journey,  and  you  have  exerted  yourself  in 
unpacking — go  and  rest  yourself.'  He  ordered 
nie  a  room  in  the  palace.  Upon  retiring,  I  re- 
solved on  a  visit  to  the  old  counsellor  Muller, 
who  was  (except  the  prince)  the  only  person  I 
knew  ;  and  I  well  remembered,  as  head  ranger, 
he  used  often  to  visit  you,  and  was  very  intimate 
with  you.  He  asked  what  business  had  brought 
me  to  tiie  residence  ;  and  when  I  told  him,  he 
said,  *  You  arrive  at  a  very  fortunate  time  ;'  and 
then  he  gave  me  an  account  of  the  trouble  which 
the  ranger  had  caused  you  ;  how  you  had  come 
to  the  residence  ;  and  in  short,  how  you  had 
been  obliged  to  go  away  without  having  suc- 
ceeded in  your  wishes.  I  expressed  a  desire  to 
return  instantly  to  the  prince.  '  No,  no,'  said 
Mr.  Midler,  'it  would  not  do  now.  You  may 
ask  to  have  a  private  audience  early  to-morrow 
morning,  and  I  will  accompany  you.  The  affair 
is  already  sulTiciently  advanced  to  secure  us  a 
favourable  reception.'  We  were  accordingly  re- 
ceived on  the  following  morning  ;  and  I  spoke  of 
you, — I  related  with  warmth  in  what  manner  you 
liad  received  me  into  your  house,  and  told  the 


THE    UNEXPECTED    VISITOR.  87 

prince  all  that  you  had  done  for  me — I  went  into 
the  minutest  details.  Mr.  MiJller  frequently  inter- 
rupted me  with  '  true,  true  ;'  but  the  prince  smil- 
ing, said,  'Let  him  speak  ;  I  am  much  pleased 
with  the  gratitude  this  good  son  expresses  for 
his  adopted  parents  ;  we  shall  know  in  time  to 
what  point  he  is  coming.'  I  then  touched  upon 
the  subject  of  Mr.  Schiif,  and  clearly  explained 
to  him  why  that  gentleman  was  so  prejudiced 
against  you ;  and  I  added,  that  he  would  have 
been  imprisoned  for  poaching,  if  the  late  prince 
had  not  been  too  idulgent  towards  him.  '  Now,' 
said  Mr.  MuUer,  '  you  exceed  the  bounds  of  that 
respect  which  you  owe  to  his  highness.  You  know 
that  princes  must  be  indulgent ;  Mr.  Schiif  was 
very  young,  and  was  for  that  reason  gently  dealt 
with.'  '  Go  on,  go  on,'  said  the  prince.  I  then 
showed  him  the  letters  you  had  written  to  me 
while  in  Italy,  in  all  of  which  you  expressed  your 
good  wishes  for  the  welfare  of  the  hereditary 
prince,  who  was  at  that  time  in  the  same  country 
with  myself:  these  letters  I  had  unpacked  during 
the  night.  The  prince  did  not  confine  himself 
to  the  passages  which  I  pointed  out  to  him,  but 
kindly  asked  leaver  to  read  the  entire  letter.     '  I 


Doir/  md  be,  *  your  Apeaking  lo  me  in 
luly  of  ihit  gooil  father  of  yours.  A  man  who 
can  write  tuch  Ivlier*  m  those,  atiii  who  hai 
brought  up  «o  gooil  a  ion.  must  be  worth  »omc- 
thiii(«*  *  For  which  rca»oo,'  taid  I.  *  your  high* 
•  '    •' -   ',     -'    -"•'     --ir- 

v.    ..        .  ..a 

ttifrily  al  me  :   '  la  iliat  the   way  lo  epeak  lo 

his  »     '         •       A  he.     I?  .    only 

•mil'  I,   '  Thr^'  not  to 

quickly  Uespairhed,  young  man;   the  ru  ;•  r'<« 

:d:      He   :■  .-O 

■«  With  th«  !)d 

conversed  with  hiro  in  a  low  tone  for  some  time ; 

«!own  t«»  '  '>d 

I       ,  .,  hi,  *  Hav.   ,  it-r 

anxiety ;  all  will  bo  well.*  He  then  f  poke  to  mt 
of  I  .  him  a 

prci:, -^  .  ij  ..JVC  my 

opinion  of  them.  *  They  all  need  repairing  or 
arranging,*  added  he,  'and  I  intrust  you  with  the 
commission,  if  you  are  disposed  to  accept  of  it' 
*It  will  j^ire  roe  the  greatest  pleasure  to  do  so,* 
I  repied  ;  •  but  I  can  engage  in  noihinf^  till  after 
the  CJiristmas  holydnys.     On  Christmas  r\*-  \ 


THE    UNKXPECTED    VISITOR.  89 

first  saw  my  revered  adopted  parents,  and  on  that 
day  I  wish  to  see  them  again,  particularly  when 
I  can  be  the  means  of  carrying  comfort  to  tlicm 
in  their  present  apparenUy  melancholy  situation.' 
*I  quite  approve  of  your  going,*  said  the  prince; 
•filial  gratitude  is  the  first  of  duties.*  Mr.  MuUcr 
having  finished  writing,  handed  the  letter  to  the 
prince  who  signed  it.  *  Remember  rao  to  your 
good  father,*  said  he,  *  and  assure  the  worthy  old 
man  that  he  has  nothing  to  fear.*  *  How  fami- 
liarly you  spoke  to  the  prince,*  said  Mr.  Miillcr 
to  me  on  our  way  to  my  lodging :  *  I  endeavoured 
to  restrain  you,  but  you  paid  me  no  attention. 
Your  love  for  your  adopted  parents  excuses  your 
warmth;  besides  which  the  slraightesl  way  is 
always  the  shortest.' 

"  I  then  begged  him  to  tell  me  what  the  prince 
had  confided  to  him,  and  what  he  had  told  him 
to  write.  After  many  entreaties,  he  at  last  con- 
fessed that  the  prince  had  said,  '  How  nearly  have 
I  been  committing  an  act  of  injustice  !  Here  is 
a  deed,  making  over  to  another  the  old  forester's 
place  ;  but  I  had  so  many  doubts  that  I  never 
signed  it,  although  no  means  has  been  left  un- 
tried to  make  me  do  so.  I  will  now  look  more 
8» 


90  ciiRirrMAS  its. 

into  ihii  affair/  He  onlcrcU  Mr.  Miiller  to  write 
m  particular  order.atlUrcssed  to  the  ranfer,  the 
contents  of  v'  Th  a 

hi«  highnen  1.    .  ^  .         >re 

the  unworthy  manner  in  which  the  foreiter  Gru- 
ncwald  had  horn  ircilril  by  the  mnprr,  who  wai 
now  forhidden  to  annoy  in  any  roauner  either  the 
old  forester  or  his  son  ;  and  was  likewise  to  ewsit 
further  orders.'  The  pnnce  desired  the  ro«n- 
sellor  to  send  this  Irtter  express  ;  *  for,*  said  he, 
'  I  am  muKt  anxiott*  to  set  the  worthy  man's  heart 
at  rest.*  Mr.  Midler  also  desired  me  to  gire  his 
re^rds  to  you,  and  to  tell  you,  that  the  command* 
of  the  prince  were  sure  to  turn  every  thing  to 
your  advantage  ;  and  that  your  son  would,  with- 
out any  doubt,  hold  the  place  of  keeper." 

During  this  recital,  the  old  forcstrr  and  his 
family  had  often  occasion  to  wipe  their  eyes  ; 
and  when  Anthony  had  done  .«r     '  the  old 

man  rose  and  embraced  him  ;  ai  off  the 

veil  which  covered  the  picture  of  the  Nativity, 
threw  a  glance  of  '    towards  heaven,  ex- 

claiming, **  Let  u-*  I  the  Angrls  in  prais- 

ing God.  Glory  to  God  in  heaven,  and  peace 
upon  earth  to  all  those  who  have  pure  hearts  !*' 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE    CHRISTMAS    TREE. 


ff,  :  ...^-^  After  Anlljony  IkuI  linislicd  his 
1^  V  recital,  he  inquired,  wilh  great 

M^^^^.y^'^';^  ^i  interest,  after  the  health  of  his 
f;  ^^;     liear  parents.     He  could  not  but 

I  r»'mark  with  sorrow   how  aged 
•^  y  had  become  during  his  ab- 

M  iicc  .  Ill-  liiiioM  wept  at  the  sight  of  their  sil- 
vered locks  and  countless  wrinkles,  although  he 
concealed  his  own  atlliction  for  fear  of  increasing 
theirs.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  pleasingly 
surprised  to  find  Christian,  Catherine,  and 
Louisa,  in  the  flower  of  their  age.  He  drew 
Christian's  children  towards  him.  "  How  lime 
passes  !"  he  exclaimed.  *'  Eighteen  years  ago. 
Christian,  Catherine,  and  myself,  were  just  such 
children  as  these,  and  Louisa  was  still  younger; 


98  CBKinHAf    EVE. 

and  now  they  occupy  our  placet."  He  fell  miMll 
pleasuro  at  seeing  ihcso  children  ;  and  asked 
them  if  lliry  had  :  '   my  Chri-  v<«. 

••Oh,  no  !"  »ai  i    ink  ;  *•  1)1-  laa 

flpoiled  our  hulyday  ;  be  if  a  real  Herod." 

Hit  rnotiicr  reproved  himforapcaking  in  such 
a  niaiiMcr. 

••  I  am  sure,  Anthony,**  aaid  little  Clara  in  her 
turn,  **  that  an  nii  1  here;  but  haro 

you  brought  us  a  <_      .     ._    ^  :l'* 

**  To  be  sure,**  said  he ;  **  I  have  not  forgolleo 
you  ;  only  you  must  await  ilie  arrival  of  my  car- 
riage and  lis  baggnge.** 

This  aniicipaiiou  cootenlcd  the  children,  and 
enabled  them  to  wait  with  palicnre  fur  morning. 
Supper  was  then  served  ;  but  there  was  more 
talking  tlian  eating,  the  children  alone  doing 
honour  to  the  good  cheer ;  they  soon  went  to 
bed  :  but  the  rest  of  the  party  remained  together 
some  lime  longer. 

••  We  must  prepare  a  surprise  for  these  lilUe 
dears,"  said  Anthony.  •*  We  will  have  a  Christ- 
mas tree  for  Uiem.  In  some  countries  the  man- 
ger is  represented  on  this  evening;  in  others,  m 
Christmas  tree  is  exhibited.  Christian  will  want 


THE    CHRISTMAS   TREE.  93 

little  persuasion  to  go  and  get  a  nice  young  fir- 
tree  this  very  night  to  please  his  children  ;  I 
having  brouglil  from  Eschenthal  every  thing  that 
is  necessary  to  ornament  it.  I  left  my  coachman 
there  and  his  horses  {which  were  over  tired), 
and  I  took  the  mountain  path  that  I  niiglit  get 
here  sooner.  I  expect  my  carriage  and  trunks 
before  sunrise  to-morrow." 

Very  early  on  the  following  morning,  while  the 
children  still  slept,  the  inhabitants  of  the  house 
were  busied  in  preparing  the  Christmas  tree.  A 
fine  young  fir,  with  green  tufted  branches,  was 
placed  in  a  corner  between  the  two  windows. 
When  the  carriage  was  unpacked,  Anthony  open- 
ed a  large  box  filled  with  every  article  that  could 
please  a  child.  He  fastened  all  his  little  presents 
to  tlie  branches — as  well  as  fine  fruit,  variegated 
bons-bons,  beautiful  little  baskets  full  of  sugared 
almonds,  wreaths  of  artificial  flowers  tied  with 
blue  or  pink  ribbons — all  of  which  he  arranged 
very  tastefully;  and  finally  he  melted  wax  into  a 
number  of  little  tin  lamps,  and  fixed  them  care- 
fully on  the  tree,  that  they  might  illuminate 
without  burning  it.  "NVhcn  all  was  completed, 
Catherine  and  Louisa  were  going  to  awaken  the 
children. 


94  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

"  Do  not  bring  them  in,"  said  Antliony,  '*  until 
I  have  lighted  the  lamps;  and  tlieir  mother  will 
call  them." 

No  sooner  did  tlie  children  hear  something 
about  presents  than  sleep  forsook  their  eyes  ;  and 
they  could  not  be  dressed  too  quickly.  But  when 
their  mother  cried,  "  Now  come  !"  they  rushed 
into  the  room,  and,  dazzled  by  the  splendour 
and  brilliancy  which  met  their  siglit,  they  stopped 
short,  silent  with  astonishment  and  delight.  Star- 
ing, with  half-open  mouths,  they  could  not  take 
their  eyes  IVom  the  dazzling  tree.  The  beautiful 
green  of  the  branches,  the  lights  which,  like  stars, 
beamed  through  them,  the  fine  red  apples,  the 
golden  pears,  and  all  the  many-coloured  shining 
things,  appeared  like  the  work  of  enchantment. 
They  hardly  knew  whether  they  were  dreaming 
or  not;  but  finding  their  speech  at  last,  they  ex- 
claimed, "  How  beautiful !  how  magnificent!" 

**  In  the  whole  of  our  forest,"  said  Frank,  "you 
could  not  find  so  beautiful  a  tree,  or  one  that 
produced  such  a  fine  variety  of  fruit." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Clara,  "such  trees  only 
grow  in  paradise  or  in  heaven.  Mother,  did  not 
our  Saviour  Christ  send  us  this  tree  ?" 


THE    CHRISTMAS   TREE.  95 

*'  Not  exactly  as  you  see  it,"  said  her  mother ; 
"  but  it  is  to  Him  that  you  owe  the  pleasure  you 
are  feeling — to  Jesus,  who  was  once  a  child,  and 
who  is  now  in  heaven  ;  for  if  he  had  not  come 
down  upon  earth,  we  should  have  had  neither 
presents  nor  happiness  at  Christmas." 

"Well,"  said  both  the  children,  "we  should 
like  very  much  to  love  and  obey  Him ;  He  is  so 
good,  and  loves  children  so  dearly.  I  do  not 
suppose  any  body  was  ever  so  happy  before  as 
we  are." 

"  My  dears,"  said  the  grandmother,  "  it  would 
indeed  be  difficult  to  feel  a  purer  joy  than  yours. 
Innocent  children  are  doubtless  the  happiest 
beings  on  earth;  their  joys  are  all  pure  and 
tranquil.  God  preserve  you  good  and  innocent ! 
Ah  !"  said  she  addressing  herself  to  the  other 
members  of  the  party,  "the  pleasures  of  a  more 
advanced  age  are  too  often  embittered  by  un- 
easiness and  sorrow,  by  ambition,  avarice  and 
other  passions,  nay,  often  by  remorse;  therefore 
are  the  words  of  our  blessed  Saviour  so  true  and 
so  beautiful :  '  Except  ye  be  as  one  of  these  little 
ones,  ye  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  " 
The  grandfather  then  added,  "  This  custom  of 


90  CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

ornamenting  a  Christmas  tree  is  very  pleasing. 
Our  ancestors  showed  as  much  wisdom  as  pru- 
dence in  seeking  to  render  the  riles  of  Cliris- 
tianity  interesting  to  children.  Tliis  innocent 
pleasure  makes  them  love  these  hoiydays,  and 
prepares  their  hearts  to  share  the  greatest  joys 
that  religion  has  to  oiler.  Every  year,  from  this 
time,  our  dear  children  shall  have  their  Christ- 
mas tree  ;  and  even  if  it  should  not  be  so  richly 
ornamented  as  this  one,  it  will  give  them  very 
great  pleasure;  so  litUe  pleases  children  :  a  few 
apples  and  pears  and  gilded  nuts  make  up  for  the 
want  of  more  costly  presents.  Every  parent 
must  be  happy  in  procuring  such  innocent  joys 
for  his  children.  I  think  also  that  the  Christmas 
tree  might  be  made  of  use  as  a  matter  of  educa- 
tion, and  often  be  rendered  of  greater  service  than 
the  rod.  Children  who  have  once  enjoyed  the 
sight  of  such  a  tree,  will  anticipate  for  the  whole 
year  long  the  delight  of  having  such  another ; 
and  the  threat  of  depriving  them  of  it  will  surely 
have  much  more  ellect  than  the  severest  punish- 
ment." 

The  parents  expressed  their  thanks  to  Anthony 
for  the  pleasure  he  had  procured  to  their  children. 


THE    CHRISTMAS   TREE.  97 

"Do  not  mention  such  trifles,"  said  he.     "I 
must  beg  you  also  to  accept  some  Christmas 
gifts  ;"  and  opening  a  chest  which  stood  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  *'  You  gave  me  this  trunk 
abundantly  filled,"  said  he,  *'when  I  set  out  on 
my  journey  ;  and  it  is  but  fair  that  I  should  re- 
turn it  not  entirely  empty  :"  and  presenting  the 
good  old  woman  with  some  silks  and  valuable 
furs,  he  added,  "  It  is  the  duty  of  a  good  son  to 
clothe  his  parents  warmly  during  the  hard  wea- 
ther."   For  the  young  wife  and  the  two  sisters 
he  brought  green  sarsnels  for  dresses,  Milan  silk 
handkerchiefs,  and  other  articles  of  dress.     To 
Christian  he  presented  an  excellent  double-bar- 
relled gun,  the  stock  of  which  was  of  walnut- 
wood,  richly  embossed  with  silver.  "  You,  my 
dear  father,"   said  Anthony,   addressing  the  old 
forester,  "  ought  not  to  shoot  any  more  ;   you 
must  rest  from  your  labours  ;  and  you  ought  to 
have  some  strengthening  cordials  at  your  ad- 
vanced age ;    here  is  a  basketful   of  good  old 
Rhine  wine  of  the  very  best  quality,  and  here  is 
a  goblet  to  drink  it  out  of;"  at  the  same  time 
presenting  him  with  a  silver  drinking  cup,  gilt  in 
the  inside.     In  the  centre  of  a  wreath  of  oak- 
9 


08  ciiKirrxAs  kvi:. 

learcf  were  engrarcd  ihcic  words :  «•  To  my  dear 
father,  Frederick  Grtincwald,  in  rpmrmbranceof 
the  ChrisUiuacTC  of  1740;  prr^^  •  '  i  Chrisl- 
nias  day  I75H,  |»y  Ins  grateful  >  \  uy  Cro- 
ncr.**  The  old  forcflter  prrvaed  Anthony  to  his 
heart.  The  latter  then  placed  in  hit  hands  a 
rouleau  of  gold  pieces  :  *•  My  drarest  Father," 
said  he,  **  you  spent  a  great  deal  upon  me  ;  and 
it  u      '  '   '  lat  your  chddren  and 

gr.i;  r   for  me.     The  old 

man  deelined  aecepting  the  last  present.  "  It  is 
no-  ■       ■  \  1  prince 

ha''  ^  _      wne  Uie 

power  of  repaying  you  a  small  part  of  the  debt 
of  gmtittidc  which    I   can   never  en  nit 

myself  of."     Here  the  old  man  ngn  <d 

his  adopted  son ;  and  the  whole  family  partook 
of  his  emotion. 

**.\hl  dear  Anthony,"  said  the  old  woman, 
**  who  would  have  thought  that,  on  Christmas 
eve  years  aijo,  when  you  tirsl  came  to  us,  yoo 
would  now  prepare  us  such  a  fete,  or  that,  by 
your  interest  with  the  pnnce,  you  would  be  the 
mean^  of  delivering  us  from  our  sad  condition  ; 


THE    CHRISTMAS    TREE.  99 

thereby  repaying  us  over  and  over  again  for  any 
ihing  we  may  have  done  for  you  ?" 

♦'  It  has  all  been  brought  about  by  God,"  said 
Anthony.  "  He  led  me  to  your  house,  that  lie 
might  bless  you  through  me  ;  glory  be  to  His 
name ! — I  must  now,"  continued  Anthony, 
"leave  you." 

*'  Why  ?  liow  ?"  exclaimed  they  all. 

*'  I  go  to  Mr.  Riedinger,"  replied  he.  "  I  hope 
to  be  in  the  town  in  time  for  divine  service,  and 
afterwards  to  surprise  ray  excellent  master  by  my 
visit,  and  to  bring  him  here  to-night.  We  will 
pass  the  Christmas  holydays  happily  together." 

They  all  accompanied  Anthony  to  the  carriage. 

The  very  same  evening  he  returned  with  Mr. 
Riedingcr;  and  the  old  keeper's  lodge,  in  the 
centre  of  the  gloomy  forest,  sheltered  for  several 
days  the  happiest  set  of  people  that  ever  lived. 

Here  ends  the  most  interesting  part  of  An- 
thony's story.  He  asked  Louisa's  hand  from 
her  parents,  who  willingly  consented.  "Ah! 
Louisa,"  said  her  mother,  '*  how  little  I  thought, 
when  you  gave  Anthony  your  apple  as  a  Christ- 
mas box,  that  he  would  ever  lead  you  as  a  bride 
to  the  altar!"  The  wedding  was  the  most  joyful 


100  CSIIl«TMAfl    BTB. 

event  that  had  evvr  taken  place  beneath  iho  roof 
>r  the  I'uresier.  Antliony  purchased  a  nice  hooot 
1'     '  '         '    ro  he  hu  '  •••  ..f 

Id  a  very  .  r, 

itid  lived  roott  happdy  with  hw  l.ouiia. 

In  t* 
arri*'  ,      _         iv 

counflcUur  MuUer  and  a  strani^er,  who  waa  well 

i  .    :.  -  -- -  - ...th 

the  viaiL  *•  Yoo  bavecx  v  ordera,'*  Baid 

"  your  rcporta,  1  did  in- 

, -    *icr  oi'  hia  •ituation,  and 

^rnn^ed  to  give  an  inferior  one  to  hit  ton  :  but  I 
never  uilrn<Jctl  to  banish  the  whole  family  from 
their  home,  in  the  inhuman  manner  in  wtiich  you 
have  attempted  to  do  it  Now  let  us  tec  the 
woodii."    Tliai district  which  was  under  the  ran- 

er's  care  was  found  to  lie  terribly  out  of  order. 

•  ni§  own  report,"  said  the  prince,  *•  led  roc  to 
expect  to  find  all  in  the  boat  order;  but  the  ap- 
jwannre  of  titc  forest  is  very  far  from  answering 
ihis  ilescription.  I  clearly  perceive  that  in  many 
jiarts  the  covers  exceed  in  number  the  aceounta 
which  he  has  rendered  np :  he  has  deceived  mc.*' 


THE    CHRISTMAS   TREE.  101 

It  was  aficrwards  discovered  Uiat  the  ranger  had 
sold  to  a  neigiibouring  forge  many  thousand  cords 
of  wood,  without  giving  any  account  of  ihem. 
To  keep  up  his  excessive  display,  which  equalled 
that  of  the  prince  himself,  he  not  only  dissipated 
the  fortune  left  him  by  his  father,  but  had  con- 
tracted debts,  and  been  guilty  of  dishonesty  to- 
wards his  master,  who  stripped  him  of  his  ill- 
gotten  wealth,  and  demanded  a  restitution  of 
all  that  he  had  so  dishonestly  pocketed. 

Poor  Mr.  Schilf  lived  from  that  time  in  a  small 
country  house  wiili  the  little  that  remained  of  his 
paternal  fortune. 

Tlie  prince  found  tlic  portion  of  forest  under 
the  forester's  care  in  the  very  best  order.  He 
condescended  to  visit  him  at  his  house ;  and  as- 
sured him  tliat  he  was  content  with  Iiis  services. 
He  was  then  introduced  to,  and  conversed  with, 
every  member  of  the  family  in  the  most  affable 
manner.  Before  mounting  the  liorse  which  a  ser- 
vant held  at  the  door,  he  turned  to  Christian,  and 
said,  **  You  are  now  keeper  and  forester.  Take 
always  the  same  care  of  what  is  confided  to  you." 
Then  addressing  himself  to  the  old  forester : 
'•  You  are,"  said  he,  *'  it  is  true,  a  little  advanced 


lOS 


CBKinHAS    BVK. 


in  years,  but  you  iro  not  f o  decrepit  u  Mr.  Schilf 
wished  lo  make  you  out  lo  epiie  of  your  yean 
you  are  ttill  •trolt^' ;  and  I  cannot  yrt  dispense 
wtih  your  •ervucs.  I  appoint  you  to  another 
office.  Remember,  then,  my  last  words— Adieu 
Mr.  Ra.nccr  !" 


VALUABLE  WORKS, 


PUBLISHED   BT 


.Vo,  111  ChesHul  Sireci^ 

PHILADELPHIA. 


iiooK  OF  c onTio\  rK\vi:it, 

Diamond  Edition^  48  mo. 

This  is  ihe  smallest  and  neatest  edition  published 
in  the  L'nit(*<l  Stales.  It  is  iiluslratrd  with  four  fine 
Steel  Engravings; — various  style  of  Bindings. 

ik         BOOK     OF     COMMON      PRAYER; 
2\mo.  Illustrated  with  Fine  Steel  Engravings. 


6vo.  Large   Type. 


TO    Br    BlAn     *T 

MORNING    &    EVENING    PRAYER, 

N       til 

Throtachowt  the  Ttar. 

Jdapiid  to  tkt  tu€  if  tkt   F.pUtopal  Ckurtk    in  tht 
I'niUd  Statu, 

in   YARMMTf   fTTLM   Of    »I5DI?I0. 

The  ^rol  .  ■  pro- 
prime  rotnpni  !  vrr, 
v>n\n  no  rnmmrnl.  Within  the  bit  <  ii 
li.iit  b«'rn  introducrd  rcry  j;rm»r»lly  in  "  ^1 
Churclkos  ihrougboui  the  L'iutc<l  Mat* 

IT    HAS    Tlir     8A5CTIO!(    uF    TIIC 

I{t.  11. -V.  William  KoUiofon  Whiuiogham,  Dithop 

of  Mar)- land. 
nx.  RcT.  J.  p.  K.  Tlrru<haw,  Bishop  of  Rhode  UUnd.    I 
I\cr.  W.  H.  «  Mrr,  Rccior  Su  Peter*!  church, 

Phil 
»•     K.  Nevillr,  •'     Si.PhiIip'8chorrh,PbiI. 

*'     W.  Suddard*,  '•     «.r.... 

•»     S.  H.  Tyn^:. 

*'     Henry  V.  D.J' r.r,'./*     i  r;'i-t  i  i;ur«-;i,  n...i;i:i  r. 


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,} 


